o. THE JOURNAL

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THERE HAS ALWAYS BEEN something about the rain that I've always found comforting. As a kid, whenever it would rain, my brothers and I would waste no time to run outside and play it in. Whether it be in the middle of the street, our driveway or even our own backyard– we always played. Running around, jumping into big puddles, purposely splashing one another by jumping in said puddles– we loved playing in it. The feeling of the raindrops hitting my skin and soaking my clothes always made me feel...safe and calm– almost as if it were washing away every bad thing that I was holding on to.

God, I love the rain...but it'd take a fucking cyclone to wash away what I was feeling right now.

I was supposed to be on my way to campus with my roommate Eleanor for a class party held by our professor in lieu of a lecture since Thanksgiving break was only days away. We're both History teaching graduate students at Boston University, and she's not only been my roommate since our freshman year of undergrad but my best friend as well. She's the only person in the area who knows me as well as any of my old friends back home. So when she asked who was on the phone and what they wanted, she understood if I didn't go to the class today– she didn't even ask me if I was going...she just knew.

When the phone rang, we were on our way out the door so we had enough time to stop by the small café that was just a short minute walk from our lecture hall. I considered letting it go to the machine and just check it when I got home– but I got this feeling in my gut that I should answer it.

God, I really wish I had let it ring.

It's only been five minutes since I hung up the phone after reassuring my mom that she didn't need to travel the 188 miles from our quaint hometown to the city and that I would be okay and I was still coming home for Thanksgiving in the upcoming days. I knew she meant well, offering to drive up here and all– but during the entirety of our phone call, all I craved was silence and to be alone.

I needed silence. I needed to think without my mom's voice echoing in my ear from the phone. I needed space to be able to breathe as I took her message in. But these apartment walls seemed to close in on me with every breath I took– and it all just felt like too much.

That's how I found myself sitting here alone in the small cafe just across from where I was supposed to be sitting in a lecture hall surrounded by my classmates, celebrating the upcoming break from all of our stressful homework and assignments. I've crouched myself away in one of the small sofa chairs in the corner that's pressed against the window. I can't tear myself away from the rain, I guess I'm still hoping it'd wash away every ounce of emotion I was feeling right now.

"Hey Betty, I saw you walk in. Bummer weather leading into Thanksgiving break, right?" I turn my attention away from the window to see William, a barista at the café that both Eleanor and I have known four about four years, approaching the area.

"Yeah, real bummer," I say, forcing a smile.

"Anyway, the rain's kept a lot of people out of the shop so we're not all that busy. Can I get you your usual? I see you're working on something, another paper?"

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