Hello,
friend.
I write
this post in the rain. Technically, I’m not in the rain. It’s raining outside my apartment window as I write
this. I think that’s close enough. What can I say, I’m looking for some
dramatic literary effect. There is something comforting about a late summer
rain. The air is a mixture of chilliness
and warmth. The clouds turn black as night, a burnt coal shade of starry-eyed oblivion.
The droplets of rain hit gently against
the window pane kept perfectly in time to
the subtle tips of my fingers on my keyboard. A gentle billow of steam comes ascending
upward from my mug of decaf French pressed coffee. A take a sip. Ahhh. The fan above my head slowly spins
to the rhythm of electric impulse. The apartment is hushed, and the mood is solemn. The soft notes of the alto
saxophone jazz hum smoothly through my speakers. All is as it should be, thanks
to the rain.
