Here comes the rain (Buddie) - English

Chapter 1 - The pool

Part 1: The calm

The woman pushing her two children, aged 4 and 2, in the large new aged Twinner stroller, stops, bends down, and reties the laces of her right shoe. She straightens up, pull up her pants to prevent them from falling lower and resumes walking. She keeps an eye on her husband walking ahead, holding the hand of their eldest daughter, who watches the giraffe snatch a branch from a knee-high to a grasshopper boy's hands. She laughs, fascinated, but still doesn't dare to approach. The animal's huge purple tongue coils around the stem and violently removes it from the boy's hands before chewing it nonchalantly. Its long neck extends beyond the high barrier, and its thick legs stamp the sandy ground in annoyance. Its tail in a brush whips the flies that come to lay their eggs on its spotted coat. The sun is high in the sky, there is not a cloud in sight on the horizon, yet the wind still blows through the trees and mammals squint their dry eyes and wave their ears in exasperation. The man sitting on the barrier, who watches with a scrutinizing eye the children who approach the immense creature is already thinking of the day when he will return his apron, tired of these monotonous visits for which he was paid much less than his previous work in security. He has only been working here for six weeks, and he has never managed to get used to the empty and sad look of the animals that have occupied these pens for years.

Christopher is making his way as best he can with his crutches. Hands in the pockets of his fleece-lined denim jacket, Evan lags behind, lost in thought. He can't wipe the tender smile that has been glued to his lips all day. He loves the zoo, as much as he loves him. It's certainly one of the few places in bustling Los Angeles where he doesn't feel crushed by buildings and suffocated by the cloud of pollution. Here, the air is pure, it's cool, and the park is strangely scarcely crowded. For once, the animals have decided to show themselves, and as they pass by the feline enclosure, Christopher leans against the barrier, drops his crutches, and points to the lion with the pale mane basking in the sun.

"Look, Buck, it's Scarface!"

He approaches slowly and looks up at the rocky mound where the king of the jungle had lain. Alone in this kind of fake cage, the animal had gnawed a kind of meat ice cube, which it had finally abandoned near a small pond of greenish water. The dead leaves of a redwood and other trees that Buck did not know formed a small orange mattress on the strangely green grass for the season, and right next to it, a piece of tire fell to shreds on a small path formed by the repeated passages of the beast, which was to be bored to die in this small space.

"Why did they call him Scarface?" He asks when looking at the wood panel on the fence.

A fly seems to have been teasing him for too long as the beast lifts its head with a growl and snaps its jaws in the air. Its tail sweeps its rock with annoyance, lifting a cloud of dust. A long claw mark streaks the right side of its face, preventing its eye from fully opening. He turns his head for a brief moment and seems to defy them with his eyes before letting himself fall weared and yawning without the slightest restraint.

"Because he's a warrior!" Christopher explains, adopting an admiring tone.

Buck ruffles Christopher's hair before suggesting they pose in front of the fence. "I'll prove your father we didn't spend our day on video games", he yelled at him while capturing his childish face.

He takes a handful of photos in which Christopher never looks at the camera but smiles broadly while standing askew. He retrieves his crutches, and once tired of watching the animal's inactivity, he resumes the tour ahead of his friend.