It rains, rains, rains. Lustful beads slash awnings and assault windowpanes. In overwhelming rushes, fat droplets grow into wailing walls; it squeezes under doorways, menacing the sanctuary of home; it thickens the chocolate mud that flows like imprisoning icing; it births fearsome eddies that boil in once featureless car parks. It makes shattering, aberrant noises like teeth breaking.
Stop. Ear-splitting silence. It leaves behind awakening life to remember it by.
—Hollis Fingold
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