The Falling Rain
By Rugyinsun
He sat in his dining room. The rain was falling outside. It was evening; he should have gone to the mosque. He looked at in front, no friends there. Nobody walked. The sun was going to lose. Its shine was fading; going to be dark. He remembered yesterday his Moslem teacher asked him and his friends to memorize vocabulary of Arabic.
Her mother came near him. She sat beside him while smiling up to him. “You like dawed?”
He looked at her. He laughed, “Where?!”
“I’m going to make it.”
“Yaaah…”
“How do if you go to the mosque first? You’ll get it when you’re back. Ok?”
He kept silence as thinking something. “Ok.” He sighed.
Her mother took him an umbrella.
“Silla! Make me a fried rice!” shouted her husband.
She sighed. Her son stared at her.
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