Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Rainy Day

     She sat at the booth by the window, stirring her morning coffee with a spoon. She gazed out the window admiring the rain. She watched it- a million water drops kissing the ground and ribbons of light wiping the sky. She couldn't help but smile, beaming with a sense of comfort. There was something about the rain that made her feel at home no matter where she was. Whatever worries were weighing on her shoulders, the rain would melt them away, slowly but surely, washing away the excess debris. It was Monday morning, which she considered to be the worst morning of the week, but the rain made it tolerable. She took a sip of her coffee and picked up her lit cigrattee from the tables' ash tray with her free hand and traded the coffee for a delightful, placid drag. The rain got heavier, attacking the windows and the rooftops. Looking outside, everything was blurry. A hazy dream almost. She sighed, even more comfortable and content than before. She placed a 5 dollar bill on the table and causually walked out of the diner's doors. People outside where rushing with their hoods on and umberlla's over their heads into the nearest shelter possible. She smikered to herself. "Why can't they just enjoy the beautifully, chaotic day?" she asked herself.
    She walked out in the rain with great pride. No hood. No umbrella. Just her and the habiliments she was in. She was instantly soaked within the first 5 seconds. Her curly, brown hair was no longer made to perfections, her make up was completely washed off. But she mind no bit, she was utterly callous. She loved the rain. She appreciated the rain. It seemed like the only thing in the world that understood her and her emotions.

1 comment:

Christine Benson said...

This is beautiful as well. Sounds like its from a book. You seem to do a lot with cigarettes. Why?