Storm

Rain is pounding down. There are small rivers flowing down the windowpanes. It slaps at the walls and doors of the house, looking for an invitation to come in, but it is refused again and again. The people of the house are restless inside; all their plans are postponed until it dries out. It goes on and on into the night, and the people try to sleep. Without realizing it, they fall asleep to the sound of a slowing rain, a light pitter-patter instead of a downpour. There are no more rivers on the windows; now quiet drops form individually, eventually pooling together at the bottom. Tomorrow the people will wake up to the sun shining and the grass glowing green, with no other reminder of the night.