Lights Out

Preface

There is a point where the rain stops and you can only hear the drip-drip-dripping of a single raindrop on the slant of a roof. I’d like to think somewhere out there someone else is hearing this drip-drip-dripping and remembering.

Because without rain I can’t remember. I can’t remember how it felt to touch him or how his hot breath felt against my cold, scarred skin. I can’t remember what it feels like to feel again.

That is why when everything is quiet and dim, and the rain pounds my window gracefully, I wait at the edge. I’m waiting for a single raindrop to start dripping so I can remember, so I can drown in my remembrance, and never forget.

I promised him I would never forget.