Time Machine

S u n n y

Night. It's raining. A lone girl stands shivering, tentatively stepping through a thin blanket of rainwater flooding the pavement. She zips her leather jacket, holding in her warmth and what feeling she has left. A thunderous strike rings from overhead, echoing like an endless curse. Indeed, as she looks up to the dark sky, water streaming down her face - half rain, half tears - it seems that even the heavens have burst apart, weeping over her broken heart.