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She looked up at the cloudy mid-afternoon sky, where the droplets stopped halfway before reaching the ground. Her surroundings was much of the same, with various sorts of folks making a dash to escape the incoming torrent. At least, that's what it would've looked like if they weren't frozen dead in their tracks. The hands of the clock ceased to move.
It never rains in Kuwait, the arid climate would never allow it to. But for this one moment, the desert had granted her wishes and she wanted to preserve it. Whenever it rained early in the year, beautiful wildflowers would bloom in the once empty space, blanketing the sands in colors of yellow and lavender.
This was how it always is, to take delight in something is to also despair when it finally disappears. From one thing, to another, change is the only constant. All she could possibly ever do is to take these beautiful, transient moments and to capture them so that she could savor them for as long as she liked.
Stretching her arms for as far as they can reach, her fingertips brush against the suspended rain. Not too far behind her is a car, its breaks having been just broken and seemingly out of control. There is no escape for her. Still, she is glad that she finally got to see rain for the first time. She could cry, but what would the point of that be? It's just as she's always known, nothing good ever lasts.
Perhaps, she thinks, things will be better next time. The hands begin to move again, and the sound of crashing metal rings sonorously throughout the neighborhood.
