you.

And that day, it rained.

As though they knew it was the day I would have met you, it rained. I stayed home all day and you did too. The next day, when it finally stopped raining, I went to the station and you were not there. But it didn’t matter because I hadn’t met you yet.

When I walked pass that Myki machine, I realised I had my Myki with me. It was as though they knew the day I would have first met you I would have not had my Myki with me, and that I would have had to buy it from that machine, my helmet dangling from my bike, nervous, my dress a bit too yellow, my bag a bit too big, my lips a bit too dry, excited to have finally met you in person.

That night, I sat down listening to the freight train. It was as though they knew about you. And it occurred to me that maybe, maybe they did know about you. But I, I didn’t know about you.

If I did know about you, would it have not rained that day?