WHAT I WILL MISS
Clouds roll in innocuously. Their white fluffiness slowly evolves into a foreboding gray and then indigo.
And then it comes. Down in sheets. There is no singing in this rain. The impact of an infinite number of water molecules slamming against the world deafens and blinds it. And binds it. Everything and everyone caught in it is soaked. To the bone.
This powerful force scrubs away the grime of life. It’s the least it can do.