It stopped raining, and the grey sky has turned black with the night. The refreshing smell of wet pavement and grass drifts lazily through my window, while droplets collect and fall from the overhangs of every house, a different sound with each varying height and texture. Cars drive by, and I imagine the spray from their tires rising and falling in the light of the mild, golden street lamps.
In person, I’m generally very private about my life, but I find myself opening up to the strangest people lately.
The most unexpected ones seem to care.
