Fresh Dew Drop From Mountains

 

The thunder rolled again, deep and resonant, as if the clouds themselves were speaking in some forgotten language. Outside my window, the sky was an uneasy marriage of blue and black — heavy rains slicing through the air like shards of glass. My tea sat untouched, cooling on the table, while my mind drifted in circles I could no longer control.

I had lost everything.

The job that defined my mornings.

The partner who once promised me forever.

The small safety net I thought would hold me.

All of it — gone.

The future didn’t feel uncertain anymore. It felt… absent. A void. A blank page that I didn’t even have the will to write on.

Then — knock.

At first I thought I’d imagined it. But there it was again, a firm rap on the wooden door. My chest tightened. No one ever came here.

I opened it to find nothing but the rain — the empty road shimmering under the streetlight, the drops hissing on the leaves like whispered warnings. But on the ground, just at the threshold, sat a small, crumpled envelope. No name. No markings.

Inside was a single line, handwritten:

"The mountains are calling. Go where the air is clean enough to hear yourself again."

And just like that, the decision was made.

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Two days later, I was winding my way up a mountain road, the air growing colder, cleaner, sharper with every turn. My breath began to match the rhythm of the rain-damp wind. I camped in a tiny wooden cabin tucked between pine trees, the kind where silence is so pure you can hear your own heartbeat.

On the third morning, the storm finally broke. Sunlight filtered through the branches like liquid gold. I stepped outside, and just as I passed under a cedar, a single bead of dew — perfectly round, shimmering like a captive star — fell from a leaf and landed on my wrist.

I froze.

It was so small. So fleeting. Yet so impossibly perfect. A tiny, weightless jewel born from a storm.

And in that second, I knew. I didn’t need my old life. I could create something new — something beautiful. I would make art inspired by this exact moment: delicate decoration pieces shaped like mountain dew drops, each one holding the memory of storms survived.

I smiled for the first time in months. The void inside me wasn’t empty anymore.

It was brimming.

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