She wondered how much longer the gods would let her live.
Rain pounded on the miami-style windows, water managing to squeeze through the minuscule gaps and slowly trickle down the cement walls of the tiny house. She was grateful that she had decided against staying in one of the many wooden houses that dotted the beach. The gods would have taken extra pleasure releasing torrents of water to smash against a zinc roof.
She braved a look out one of the few glass pane windows that decorated the house and saw that all of the morning beach goers had cleared the immediate vicinity and stayed clear of the rain that only assaulted her. That was all she could see because as soon as she got a little closer for a better view, the rain turned into tiny needles that began cracking the delicate glass surface. Gritting her teeth, she retreated into the shadows.
Thunder suddenly struck the ground outside, and she hated herself for reacting so violently. The sound echoed unnaturally for minutes—her teeth suffered trying to keep her from screaming forever.
Grabbing the green comforter from her bed and moving to the center of the house (now the only dry area in the place), she sat, wrapped herself and retreated to her most recent and pleasant memory.
Her grandmother used to tell her many stories of humans who were cursed by strange and exotic gods, but one in particular had always captivated and affected every waking moment of her adulthood: the story of Toquí from the Caribbean island of Boricanto. Centuries ago he had been a wise, humble, and caring young Borican who loved and respected the gods. To reward his loyalty the gods created a new species of animal that would sing his name and thrive exclusively in the island of Boricanto. When presented with the tiny, winged, frog-like creature, Toquí became repulsed and ran from the gods.
They cursed him.
He became the creature the gods had created in his honor. Forever the creatures would sing "Quí-quí-to-quí", but only when it rained. Toquí would never be able to join them, for when it rained he would turn back into a human and feel utter loneliness; he was no longer part of the human world, but neither was he truly part of the rain frogs. No human was allowed near him; a worse fate awaited any who got close.
She ignored the danger.
Last night she met him.
Last night everything changed.
She had moved to the island and waited for a rainy day. When it finally arrived, she walked into the forest behind her little cement house and searched, convinced she would find him. There was nothing there. Disappointed, but by no means discouraged, she walked back to the house, soaking wet and enjoying the singing of the tiny, winged rain frogs. Hand on the doorknob, she hesitated. Though she had only been in the house for a week, something felt different.
A heavy thump.
Her heart began to pound loudly in response. Gathering all her strength she twisted and shoved the door open, hoping the element of surprise would give her an advantage.
What she saw made her heart beat faster.
In the middle of the room was a naked man, crouched and hunched low, much like the rain frogs singing outside. He was holding her green comforter to his face, regarding her in stunned silence.
It's him, she thought, it's Toquí.
His skin was tanned a golden brown; his body lithe and muscular like a dancer; his eyes were pools of darkness that reflected a terrible sadness and loneliness.
