The rain. It tattered across the parking lot making reflections off of his shoes. With no rush he steadily trimmed to the building with the raindrops fluttering across his shoulders. One last puff of smoke lingered from the lips of the mystical being.
He flicked the cigarette out of his lips and out onto the cement. The wind wizzing the final puff out of the stick and into oblivion. The intrusive thought to get out of the car and rush to beat the rain to touching the cigarette. Oh to place the taste of his onto mine was electrifying.
DROP! DRIP! PAT!
A gasp escaped my lips as I noticed the rain sat onto my hands that held the cigarette to my lips. She was mocking me, the rain was mocking me as it only sat on my foolish hands and head. She was laughing at me, the sound of the rain dancing across the pavement as I made a foolish act. I could hear the whispers of the rain and the wind, the oldest best friends.
"Can you believe it?"
"She really beat us to it!"
"Oh she's silly I like her!"
"She's more foolish than snow."
"Oh and snow is very silly with the little shapes she makes!"
"She's very young that snow, always calling herself Winter!"
"Oh yes and remember when she was an Ice Age?"
The mocking clanged against my head along with the question of...why?
