Rain cottage story

The rain beat heavily against the timber-framed window, driven by an insistent, whining wind.  Three days it had been like this.   Susan lay in front of the fire, reading.   I gazed at her, envying her ability to curl up anywhere like a cat and be quietly self-amused, either with a book, or just staring mistily into the distance, whilst I, on the other hand, paced up and down like a caged animal, growing increasingly agitated.  How long could this weather last?  We were supposed to be hiking! Conquering peaks!

“You’ll wear a hole in the floor boards, Jim,” said Susan.

I stopped and turned to look at her.  She wore a slight smirk on her face.

“I can’t stand this any more, Sue.”

She smiled sympathetically and put her book down.  “We could play cards?” she suggested.

I shook my head.  “No thanks.  Not in the mood.”

“Hmm, OK then,” she replied, and returned to her book.

“Do you ever wonder…” I continued.

“Hmmm?” she replied without looking up.

“I mean, wonder what people used to do.  In places like this, during the long winters.”

“I guess they read, or carved toys for the constant stream of babies.”

I brightened a little at the thought.  “Fancy … er … you know?  Making babies?”

Susan looked up at me with a glare.  “Just to while away the hours, so to speak?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

“Because I am not a board game you can just take out from the box and play with.""

“Suit yourself,” I replied sulkily and turned back towards the window, watching the rivulets of rain twist and turn in the search of an optimal, yet strangely indirect, languid route down the window panes.  Why didn't they just go straight down?  It infuriated me.

In the distance, low clouds raced past the surrounding peaks, drenching the murky valleys below. Sighing, I turned away and headed towards the little kitchenette and put the kettle on.


Susan shook her head, continuing to read.  I sighed again and turned off the kettle.  I didn't really fancy any either.  I sat down heavily on a rough wooden chair and gazed at Sue.  She still looked absolutely gorgeous at thirty-five, her shapely curves nestled in corduroy and soft wool, her bosom rising and falling with her gentle breathing.  I was a lucky man.

And then it occurred to me.  An epiphany, if you like.

“I love you,” I said, my excitement scarcely contained.

Sue sniggered, “You’re still not getting any.”

“No,” I protested, “I mean it.  You’re amazing.”

Sue put her book down and looked up at me, her head inclined to one side.  “And what’s brought this on, Romeo?”

I shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I just realised that with all my running around, getting all angry about this wasted holiday, that I was missing the most important thing.”

“The point?”

“Yes, dammit!” I cried excitedly.

Sue sat up, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.  “What?”

“This is tax deductible!  We can claim the use of the cottage as an office for these three days!  It's not a waste.  It's brilliant!”

Sue didn't see things my way, as usual.  Women are such a strange species.

short story rain romance relationships


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