This story is my little, humble homage to Woody Allen’s Manhattan, one of my favourite movies. Although in its final scene it is not raining, the prompt for this composition made me immediately recall some of its details and below you may find the result. I hope you forgive me for ruining Allen’s marvellous love story.

Homage to Manhattan

by Antonio Prados Montaño

It had been raining all morning.

            When the alarm clock rang at seven o’clock, he realised that it was Saturday. Seldom did he forget to switch off the alarm clock at weekends but, when it occurred, he inevitably felt a bit depressed. Moreover, the sound of heavy rain disturbed him, but he couldn’t help getting up once the alarm clock had gone off. Nevertheless, he always knew that it would be difficult for him to overcome his current laziness during the whole day.

            Two hours later, he was sitting in his couch while idly playing with a small object, which rotated slowly between two of his fingers. It was the mouth-organ that she had given him as a present some time ago. He appreciated that the break-up was his fault, but only today did he become aware that he was beginning to fail to remember her face.

            Suddenly, he just knew. Had he been less insensitive, he would have done the right thing a long time ago. He picked up the phone but her line was busy. He tried again a couple of times, with no success. Raining still it was and he had to make a decision: only a minute after, he took his overcoat and made for the street.

            It was raining heavily and his pace was quite slow. Neither was he able to take a taxi nor her line was free when he tried to phone her on the way. Then, abruptly, he stopped. The street door was ajar, so he sneaked in and took the lift to the seventh floor. Somehow, her doorbell rang and, as soon as the door opened and a frank smile appeared on her face, he knew (in fact, both of them knew) it didn’t matter that it had been raining all day.