I've known you just a few years, but you've been my friend for a lifetime.

A whispered breath.

Fog lines the window.

Shapes traced by a small finger.

A sigh.

The rain.

She steps out of the car, into a puddle. Her rubber boots splash. She does it again.

The sky is gray and pouring. The trees heavy, wet, and green. It's a quiet world. She ignores the traffic.

She steps from the curb to the sidewalk, kicking tsunami-waves from her toes. They roll back and wash down the drain.

She remembers the rhyme, and skips over the cracks. There are many, but others are hidden. She avoids the big ones.

The front steps glisten and break, repeatedly, her reflection a cheering mass of chaos. She doesn't see it. Steps right into it.

The doorbell rings, the chime muffled. Inside rolls a thunderstorm. Someone hollers. Footsteps pound. She waits and remembers she hasn't learned to whistle.

The knob turns and a cat races out, only to dislike the rain and run back inside, tail high in the air. She watches it finicky-step past grey socks and hide inside the closet. The socks wiggle. She looks up.

The sun streams past the clouds, droplets on her face. A rainbow forms.

She steps inside.

The door closes.

They'd never met. They drink tea. The cookies are slightly old.

A cat comes in, is shooed out. It voices displeasure.

The silence is awkward.

The smiles are comfortable.

So are the hugs.

She's been everyday.

The shadows are familiar. So are the stories.

She doesn't know the faces, but she does know the voices. They're clear in her head.

She's heard the stories.

They've all come to life.

They share everything.

Movies, purses, socks, and scarves.

They try to catch the moon, end up with a handful of stars.

They toss it like glitter.

The glitter never fades.

The walker is bedazzled. It's bright and pink.

So is the laughter.

Church bells couldn't peal any louder.

The car leaves the curb after she's gone inside. The door is closed. The cat didn't stay out long.

The blinker waits. The wipers keep time.

The inside fogs.

Once-drawn shapes appear.

Traced by a small finger.

The rain smiles back.