Misting

Rain again. But this was a gentler rain than it had been before, a rain that was more akin to mist.

She liked it. It was comforting, like a soft gray blanket to wrap herself up in: something she could hide under, so that the world wouldn't notice her as it went about its dreary business.

She always did feel better in the water.

She wandered down a deserted street, noting the difference between the water droplets striking her bare arms: some fell from the sky, some from the leaves of the trees that arched overhead. Each droplet had different experiences, and therefore brought her different stories. Each one was unique- and yet they blended together on her skin as though they'd never been apart.

They were like God, she thought.

(She didn't bother to explain what she meant by this.)

She'd come to an abandonded field, and as the street lights dwindled in the distance her pupils grew so large that if anyone had been around to see her eyes they'd have seen only the barest hint of color around the edges. Dilated pupils always made her feel like a wild animal- she bared her teeth in the rain: a savage with a grin.

Laughter, bouncing back from the waving grass. She waded through the stalks, danced with them to the variable beat of the droplets. They caught at her hair, at her skirt, each one tugging her a different direction.

"You're unruly," she scolded them, then sank down to lay on her back amongst them. The rain beaded on her eyelashes, and the imagined what the stars were doing behind the clouds. Probably sleeping in, she decided, and rolled over to count the grains of sand mixed in with the soil.



(More Drops)