It is raining.
It drops ever so lightly. The gray clouds stroll slowly to the left and the sun runs to the right. The drops hit the ground, the house, and the people. The night sky begins to cover everything above as the rain covers everything below. The drops cushen everyone and thing with a splash of water. Feeding a plant or annoying a driver.
A person forgot their umbrella at home.
It is raining.
The rain drops furiously now. Angered at the loneliness of the streets. The lack of smiling, happy people playing. At the absence of puddles being splashed in. At that forgetful fool who now looks up with shut eyes and yells with an angry shrill of a voice. And says why. Why now of all days to rain? Calmly now that person looks around with widen opened eyes. Why he says again. Why?
It is raining.
The man is running home. Running for shelter. Running for anything else besides the rain. Everything has shut down. Everyone has gone home to rest. The man is alone in the streets with only the rain to comfort him. Though the rain only discourages him to lean left then right. Forward then back.
He is upset at the rain, angry and despises the rain more than anything at that moment.
The news is calling it a storm. A tornado. A catastrophe is brewing. The man is stuck in it all.
It is raining.
The rain no longer wishes to be gentle and now is a hard, fast punch to the gut. It cares for no one and will hurt anyone it sees. Anyone unlucky to see its wrath.
That man, that fool who forgot his umbrella is unlucky. The man is in a fight with the rain. As the man yells so does the rain but louder. The man kicks and punches around him, at the rain as it punches back.
The man is losing the fight, against water.
He is enjoying the fight. The water refreshes him to fight as he grows tired. He stands tall to fight it.
A cocky grin.
Pure joyous motivation.
It is raining.
The man has grow too tired to move and sits on a lonely bench nearby. The rain is still angry, throwing out lashes at the man who closed his eyes for a rest. The rain bites back a growl and then slowly it stops as it watches the man.
It has become a mirror of the man, calm and tired but in a peaceful way. It has taken pity on the man. It has taken interest in the man. It has given the man it's friendship for the night. The rain allows the man to sleep and leaves him in peace. Along with the rest of the world.
There will be no storm. Only down pour that will stop. It leaves a single drop of rain on the man's cheek. A goodbye as the man sleeps and smiles ever so slightly. A bus is pulling in for the last stop of the night, right in front of the man.
It stopped raining.
