Downpour

This could be a continuation of a story I read on "The Fabian Society" called "Anhedonia."

And then came first rain. The pitter-patter against the elms kept her ears strained in the otherwise quiet of the night. The scent of it rose from the sidewalks, forcing her to throw back the covers and shut the window lest she begin to unravel in happiness. She had been stoic for so long, she could not imagine what this feeling was building within her.

At breakfast, it was still raining. Her cool doll's voice cracked in conversation over the table and the typical "O yes" she would resound was inadequate and somehow lacking. She scraped her plate into the trashcan at the thought and calmly, blankly, walked outside.

She smiled at the downpour as it caressed her head and wet her shoulders, her feet, her nose. The heavens welcomed her back into humanity while she walked on, drenched but unashamed.