"If you ever miss me, I'll be at the end of the rainbow." Her eyes appeared almost empty—like two droplets of the black coffee. "Patiently waiting for you."

 

 

A moderate drizzle stretched its rainy grasp across the verdant valley; its gray overcast was like the mourning veil of a gloomy funeral. A 21-year-old man gazed at the faint seven colors arching in the sky. Its left head plummeted beyond the farthest reaches of the cityscape and into the encompassing woods. He donned a black fedora, raincoat, and rubber boots. Four minutes passed, the only sounds being his breath alongside the wind's muffled bellows rattling outside the apartment window.

 

"Seventh time's the charm," he muttered. "Here we go again."

 

He grabbed his keychain and strode out the doorway, where the storm's call was slowly reduced to whispers, overtaken by the buzz of fluorescent light panels. The man's steps thumped against the carpet alongside his beating heart. He reached his car in the underground parking and quickly drove out onto the streets.

 

Strangely, the avenues were strikingly empty—devoid of bolting vehicles and frantic businesspeople. The city's flickering streetlights pierced the tempest's haze like pinpoints of brightness puncturing through seawater. And yet, the rainbow still shone through the ethereal barrage of rainfall—evident as daylight. After fourteen minutes, the man had exited the city. He took one look back at the silhouette of the receding concrete jungle—skyscrapers with steel spires piercing the fog, like outstretched hands reaching for the empyreal heavens; stout office buildings, each filled with thousands of sauntering businesspeople; and the seemingly endless grid of concrete streets, all silent and lifeless.

 

The road had ever-so-slightly narrowed, disappearing into the forest. And yet, the end of the rainbow stood unyielding and unchanging. After five hours of continuously driving, the car ran out of fuel. With a tired sigh, the man put his car in neutral, unsheathed his umbrella, and ventured out. He remembered there was a remote gas station a quarter of a mile away; with a stroke of luck, he might get there without getting laughably soaked. When he got to the station, he plugged in the hose and wandered into the convenience store, where two people ambled about in the shop—a spaced-out young cashier and an elderly man.

 

"Oh, hey," the cashier said, attempting small talk. "Some storm, huh?"

 

The man was immediately snapped out of his daze. "Yea, I guess."

 

The old man looked at him. He gave a knowing smile and resumed browsing the aisle.

 

The man quickly grabbed a bag of black coffee, paid for it and went back to his car.

 

"Your poor man," a husky voice said behind him. The man spun around and saw the old man standing at the doorway. "Trapped in an endless cycle of a goalless mission. When will you realize the inevitable truth?"

 

The man was too exhausted to be concerned. Only confusion bloomed in his head. "What truth?" he inquired.

 

The old man disappointingly shook his head. "Your mother died seven years ago," he coldly stated. "And yet, you stubbornly believe she is still alive all this time." The elder tilted his head and stared into the man's eyes. "I know how hard it is to let go—take it from someone with experience—but whether you like it or not, you cannot deny death. It is ultimate."

 

The man felt a prick of annoyance. How could this codger know what he was going through?

 

And yet, it felt like an insurmountable wall—one he must eventually yield to. He turned away, and despite the frigid winds, he felt hot tears congregate behind his eyes.

 

He made a feeble attempt to argue. "She's not dead. I swear it. My mother said if I ever missed her... she'd be at the end of the rainbow. There's no way... after so many long years..." They streamed down his cheeks like rivers and dripped onto the ground when they reached his chin. 

 

The old man's eyes twinkled with fatherly empathy. "For seven years, you returned to your mother's old house on the other side of this forest, only to come to an empty establishment. There is no one inside, and yet, you insist that she is still somewhere within. And as you pointlessly continue this loop, you leave your frail grandmother at home, where the only thing that remains constant throughout her day is the forever ticking clock." He raised a finger to silence the man's incoming reply. "I am not implying you don't care about your grandmother. I am saying that when you go on this yearly trip to find your self-proclaimed alive mother, you leave your grandmother alone at home." His arm fell to his side. "Why care so much for a lost one when you can care for a loved one?"

 

The man gazed over to the end of the rainbow—a place unconditionally inaccessible. He looked back at the old man, who slowly walked back into the store.

 

The man ran after him. "Hey, wait! You!" When he rushed back into the building, the old man was nowhere to be seen. The man looked to the cashier and asked, "Hey, did you just see an elderly man walk in here? I need to talk to him."

 

The cashier appeared perplexed. "Sir, there's been no one but you here in the past hour."

 

After a few silent minutes, the man returned to his car and began driving back to the city. By then, the rain had been reduced to a light sprinkle. He slowly glanced to the sky. The rainbow was no longer there.

 

He returned to his apartment bedroom. A frail woman lied in bed. The man crouched and approached her. "Gran. I've figured it out."

 

His grandmother weakly smirked. "Took you long enough. For seven years, you've been trying to find someone who had died long ago." She shakily reached for his face and continued to sleep.

 

The man smiled and stared out the window, his soul much more tranquil.

 

The rain had finally stopped, and another rainbow appeared in the sky.