One day in the middle of the rain I walked slowly. I got nothing in my hands, no shield upon my head, no other clothes covered my uniform; yes, as you can imagine, the rain would hit me easily drop by drop. I hated it, and still. It was only 500 meters away before but that day, the distance expanded like 3 times further. My eyes went straight to the street, but my brain ignored any information they sent. My legs surely brought me to my address, but my brain took me somewhere else. I had no clue. I was lost. People passed by saying hi, some offered their help too. I greeted them with a smile and a head shake. I got this, things were fine. I just got to be intensely unlucky for a moment, this should pass.

Many days later I was sitting in a cafe with my iced americano. This time I fortunately got a companion to hear and answer me. A real companion, indeed. I didn't talk to my americano. We talked a lot about everything. I repeat, a lot; about why children refuse to take a nap while adults are crazily want to, about how the water fall to the ground so you call it rain, about how you easily determine if the things is good for you, about the math equation you randomly remember, and about the way we see ourselves day by day. 

"I am not weak", I frankly said. My companion laughed a little, looked me in my eye, and ask, "So, you are strong?". I left him 10 minutes in silence. He understood me that well, and I respected him for letting me had a small conversation with myself first before I would answer his question. Our gaze went to the window, tried to count the amount of water falling from above. It was a lot. The size of the drops were bigger enough to consider it not as a drizzle. It fell rapidly, surely many times, heavily. Some of them fell over the grass, some others over the leaves, and the rest of them fell over the roof, giving us a background music to distance ourselves from silence. I sighed. I didn't know. I sipped my americano again, that was the third time. "You are not", he said. "What you are now, doesn't radiate the vibes of a strong person". He paused as he sipped his double-shot espresso. "Denying the fact that you are weak doesn't mean you are strong". He was right. I smiled a little and threw my eyes to the window again. "I didn't know I was wrong all this time. Who the hell would teach me the way to be strong, anyway?"

"That's why you need me," he smirked again.

"Oh, so you know how?"

"No, of course. But we can find the way together"