She hadn't been out in the rain since that night, That terrible night.

She cautiously took a step into it, The cold pavement misting under bare feet.

The drizzle began to quicken.

Despite the cold temperature of the air, sweat began to prickle along the back of her neck.

She was nervous, But she had to do this for herself, Before the loud thunder and clashing lightning took over.

She let the apprehension flow away with the dotting, moving streams, Into an unknown abyss of pitter-patter and cold pins falling on her warm scalp.

It seemed to penetrate it like a thousand tiny blades.

However, She welcomed the blades, And cuts they brought with them.

She tried to embrace the soothing static, Each drop running into each other.

She glanced down and watched each ripple fade quicker than the last.


Each one had originality and an unplanned landing, an un-routed path.

It's what she wanted.

The rain let go into a soft patter.

Each stream had its own light eminence and group.

She breathed in shaky breaths, taking with her the fine mist of rain and letting it rest on her upper lip.

She did this until she could breathe right again, Until it appeared without thinking or comprehension.

Until a soft pastel rainbow came into view and all the dull colors of life went hazy and blurred out of focus.

She was gone.

Her stormy eyes gleamed with shards of gray and silver.

She was one with the steaming humidity and cold renewed mist.