FICTION – FFFC #315

“Did you know rainbows aren’t real?” Sophie said, nose pressed to the rain-speckled window like she was trying to peer through the fabric of reality.

Josh, flopped sideways on the couch and half-heartedly plucking his guitar, didn’t look up. “Real enough to chase. That counts.”

“They’re just light doing a water park routine. You can’t touch one. You can’t keep it. It’s basically sky clickbait.”

Josh strummed a lazy, spacey chord. “Exactly. That’s what makes it magic.”

Sophie turned, eyes narrowed like a nine-year-old prosecuting attorney. “Magic isn’t real either. Honestly, sometimes I think you were left on our doorstep by a pack of whimsical wolves.”

Josh raised an eyebrow. “Bold accusation for someone who still believes in bedtime.”

“I’m just saying—look at the evidence. Dad’s an engineer. Mom rebuilds humans for a living. I’m a well-documented overachiever with a spreadsheet for everything. And then there’s you—Mr. ‘What if clouds are just sky-whales and the rainbow is their feeding tube?’”

Josh laughed. “Okay, that was solid. Respect.”

Sophie gave a smug little bow. “Thank you. I’ll be here all week. Try the sarcasm; it’s aged to perfection.”

“I’m the creative recessive gene,” Josh said, plucking at a new tune. “Or maybe a stowaway from an alternate timeline with looser rules.”

“You give strong alternate timeline energy,” Sophie agreed, already hopping off the windowsill.

She disappeared down the hall and reappeared 90 seconds later fully suited up in a bright yellow slicker, matching boots, and her frog-shaped umbrella. She looked like a tiny storm hunter gearing up for war.

Josh blinked. “Are you… ready to fight the weather?”

“I’m ready to dominate puddles,” she said, snapping her hood into place. “The rain’s letting up, and I have a contract to enforce.”

Josh raised an eyebrow. “What contract?”

Sophie stared him down. “Don’t play with me, Mister. You promised me ice cream after the rain stopped. There were witnesses. I can draw you a diagram.”

Josh put both hands up. “Okay, okay. Ice cream. I hear you.”

“Good,” she said, already halfway to the door. “Justice will be served. Preferably in a waffle cone.”

As Josh grabbed his keys, he glanced at her. “Are you gonna be embarrassed being seen with me? I’m kind of a known weirdo.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, but grinned. “Of course not. You’re my brother. I love you—even if you are intellectually stunted. No one’s perfect.”

Josh chuckled. “Wow. You really know how to make a guy feel cherished.”

“I try.”

He set the guitar down with exaggerated care. “But when we get back…”

She paused mid-step. “What?”

“Will you let me play that song? The one I wrote that’s totally not about you but also definitely is?”

She sighed, but her grin cracked through. “Fine. But if it’s sappy, I’m filing a formal complaint.”

“To who?”

“Your soul.”

Josh laughed. “Noted. Minimal sap. Maximum chords.”

“And no eye contact,” she added. “That’s how feelings sneak in.”

Outside, the rain had dwindled to a drizzle. A rainbow stretched overhead like it had been waiting for them to notice.

Josh looked up. “You know, it kind of feels like a map.”

Sophie squinted at it. “To where?”

Josh shrugged. “Somewhere we don’t have to know everything. We just get to… exist.”

Sophie stomped into a puddle with both boots. “Cool. Let’s go there. Right after ice cream.”

They set off down the sidewalk, the sky still dripping a little, the rainbow curved above them like a wink. Neither of them said it, but both figured: if that thing was pointing somewhere—maybe it was toward each other.

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