(Written by Sofia Barton)
It was raining that night. She looks outside the window, tenderly holding a mug of chamomile tea. The floral scent from the drink overpowers the room. The warmth comforts her, tells her that everything is right in the world. It was raining hard that night. Thoughts of him stirred her loins. The ache is familiar. It’s been a long time now. Her hold on the mug of tea tightens. She grips it like how she does to him. Her mind travels at the moment.
It was raining that night. Alone in her room, she sits by the window and looks outside. The view was blurred by the rain flowing on the window pane. Around this time, she’d usually see people walking by the rough pavement. A lone woman with her dog. A young man jogging with headphones on. A businessman rushing back home from work. The rain poured steadily.
She sits by the window. Her cheeks are wet and the tears fell on her delicate hands, forming small puddles. Her soul, flooded. It was raining that night. The streets were glistening. People walk by. Couples sitting on a bench, holding hands. A lone woman with her dog. A young man jogging with headphones on. A businessman rushing back home from work.