It Stopped Raining

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.

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