Rain Under the Overpass

Under the overpass, Tegar sat on a small wooden bench. The sky was dark and rain was starting to fall, dancing on the puddled asphalt. The rumbling sound of vehicles above him mixed with the sound of the rain, creating a city melody that always accompanied his quiet afternoons.

Tegar was not a professional photographer, but his old camera was a loyal friend. He loved capturing city views—the bustling streets, the colorful umbrellas passing by, or the faces of people waiting for the rain to stop. For Tegar, every portrait was a story.

That day, as he was photographing an umbrella seller taking shelter on the side of the road, his gaze fell on a small child standing alone. The child was wearing a blue plastic raincoat that was too big for his tiny body, holding a kite that was wet from the rain.

Tegar approached, curious. "What are you doing here, kid? Wouldn't it be better to take shelter?" he asked softly.

The child turned his head, his face bright even though his body was soaked. "I want to fly this kite, Uncle. My father said that after the rain stops, the wind will be stronger and it will be good for flying kites."

Tegar smiled. Those words reminded him of his childhood in the village, when he often played kites with his late father. He sat down next to the boy and said, "Can you help me later, Uncle, when the rain stops?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically. They waited together, talking about kites, about rain, and about dreams. When the rain began to ease, they came out from under the bridge. The wind was blowing hard, just as the boy had hoped.

The blue kite flew high in the sky that was starting to brighten. The boy laughed out loud, and Tegar didn't forget to capture the moment with his camera. Silently, he was grateful to have met the little boy—a reminder that simple happiness often comes unexpectedly, even under flyovers that are often considered meaningless.