Night Rain
Night rain did not stop, as if it had been waiting for this chance to be soaked by the heavy drops. Water, cold and insistent, ran down the windows and the glass shivered in the wind.
The room was dark, the lights off. The only sound came from the rain and from the radio that was playing quietly. It was a small living room with a small kitchen. There were two beds, a table and two chairs. There was an old television, a few books on the shelves and a couple of dolls on the floor.
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Night rain did not stop, as if to emphasize the fact that a few more hours and the day would be over. The sky was a dark gray, and the rain fell harder.
The light was dimming out of the sky, and I had to squint and look through the windshield. I was too tired to think of anything but getting home. The rain had stopped, but there was still a mist in the air. I could see the lights of my house, but it was hard to tell how far away they were. It was almost as if I could feel their warmth, like I could touch them.
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