It’s raining again. You blink, almost surprised, as a drop lands on your long lashes. A breath escapes your pale lips, chapped from the cold that nips at your exposed forearms, neck, face. The sky, dark hangs ominously above you, with night welcoming the shadows home.
You stand there, face unreadable, hands clenched so tightly that little half-moons will be imprinted in your skin. Again. Is it from the chill creeping up on you or from the barrage of thoughts pent up in your head? The patter of rain on the long blades of grass is relentless. Soothing. Your grey eyes flick upwards, searching for something in the distance. The lights behind you twinkle dimly, framing your damp hair with a faint halo under the angle most living things would never see. You’ve walked a long way to get here.
Darkness engulfs your form, as you hunch forward on reflex, as if used to fending of the darkness. You always were a stubborn one. Rain streams down your damp hair, arcing across the bridge of your nose and lightly descending down your cheeks, sometimes passing over your lips in a butterfly kiss. All softness but no permanency. When a faint caw reaches your ears, your mouth turns up in a smile and you slowly cup your hand in front of you.
Solitude.
