Perpetual Rain ✓

Waterlogged Walk

Your eyes widened at the feeling of cold liquid splashing against your warm skin, the tips of your fingers pressing against your face as you wiped tea from your cheek.

You stared at the dampness shining off your fingers in the light of your porch. For a moment, you assumed it was a splatter that ricocheted from the tea cup you had just dropped.

Looking down, you found no shattered porcelain and the familiar hard wood floor of your room was no longer under your feet. It had been replaced with the aged, damp, grey wood of your front porch that was long over due to be replaced.

Glancing around in your confusion, you found yourself outside now, wearing your grey hoodie, a thick pair of black cargo pants, your favorite rainy day leather boots, and a black and white 'Led Zepplin' shirt. This was a new set of clothes over the pajamas you had last recalled wearing.

Perhaps you spaced out? Glancing back at your front door you found nothing out of the ordinary. The porch light shined in the dimness of the late morning, activated by a light sensor that was fooled by the dark clouds stretching and moving across the sky.

The stench of rain was so much more apparent as you inhaled the humid air into your lungs. You could even see the thick moisture hang in the harsh light, the mist dancing on the wings of the wind.

'It must be the stress.' You thought to yourself as you raised your slender fingers up to curl a piece of dark brown hair behind your ear and yanked your hood up above your head.

Turning toward the stairs you started down them in a faint jog, determined to venture out on a walk you assumed would clear your mind from its haze.

The nail of your thumb scraped subconsciously against the keys in your jacket pocket. You could have taken your car out for a drive, but something about driving in this weather was unsettling to your core. You felt more content letting your feet tread against the wet ground as you headed to a park that was within a mile from your home, a popular place for you to wander ever since you were young.

You remember going so far as to pack a bag and run away to the old raggedy playground when you were six. You had made a firm decision that you were going to spend the rest of your life living in that small plastic tunnel connected to the structure after a fight with your father. But unfortunately you were returned within the hour, ruining your future plans of raising a family in your new tubular home.

Upon reaching the park, you spotted that familiar yellow tube. The mouth of it was dripping with the pouring rain that came from the heavens, but surely the inside was dry? No... you were too big to fit in there now.

Still, just the idea caused the corner of your lips to perk into a soft reminiscent smile as you recalled that memory. Your eyes darted from the playground to the ground in front of you, watching your steps carefully to ensure you didn't dunk your foot into one of the many puddles that littered the pathway, one so deep that it would surely soak the thick layer of cloth that covered your legs.

You watched the ripples your feet created on the thin layer of water that spread along the concrete. Your boots were getting wet, but the treated leather allowed the water to simply roll off. You idly watched the lines expand before connecting in a splendid natural crash from the other ripples caused by the droplets of rain.

Your focus was on the ground and you were no longer paying as close attention to your surroundings as you likely should have been. But it was dark, cold, raining and most of all, silent.

The casual sounds of kids laughing and yelling in their frolic was nowhere to be heard. The gossiping of mothers who sat on the benches lining the sidewalk as they let their children play was missing.

But there was something about the absence of sound that brought you a sense of peace. In that silence there was no side eyed glances, no arrogant stares from bystanders as they silently judged you or questioned your motives. Malice didn't hang in the air. No smell of condescension was being wafted in your direction. The feeling of piercing eyes on the back of your neck was nonexistent. Only the soft sound the rain made as it kissed the earth indicated that the world hadn't been paused or muted.

It was calm, though lonesome, but you preferred that to the prior. It wasn't as if you were a social butterfly anyway. You enjoyed your solitude, the silence. For someone whose thoughts constantly ran rapid in the confines of your mind, only you were able to make sense of the chaos that was your mentality, and that solitary atmosphere helped to soothe you.