Rainy

I love waking up to a gray day
I love the sound of wipers across a windshield
I love running from the car, attempting to avoid getting wet
I love staring out the window of a monotonous classroom to watch the droplets
I love driving all my friends home so they won’t get soaked
I love getting to work early and sitting in the parking lot,
listening to the pitter-patter on the car roof
I love standing under the awning on your cigarette break
and blowing clouds of gray into the already gray sky
I love how the nighttime stoplights shine on slick streets after a day full of rain

Summer Storm

Another storm is comming tonight. I can already hear the thunder.

They walk out of the front door into the spitting rain. It’s not heavy, it’s erratic and sharp. Four girls head to the local convenience store on a warm summer evening to get drinks despite the large abundance of food inside. They only really use the need for drinks as an excuse to escape the confinements of the basement they frequent regularly. Walking to the store provides a small summer night adventure for the girls, even if they’re only going there and coming back home. One girl pulls out a pack of cigarettes and passes it around as they begin their walk, a foolish idea since the rain is picking up. Despite the weather though, two of the four teenagers light their tobacco and attempt to keep the paper from getting wet in the rain. Conversation flows with happy comments and the occasional sarcastic remark as the group walks down a sidewalk littered with streetlights. The rain grows thicker and the two girls with their cigarettes give up on their effort to smoke. The rain is cool but the puddles on the ground are warm from the sun-soaked asphalt. The rainfall brings out the child in each girl, as if enchanted precipitation soaks through her maturity. They laugh for no reason, shout, jump, splash and play. One skips while another starts to sing. Dancing and twirling, they make a turn onto a busy street and continue their late night walk to the store. Shoes are removed and the twirling continues. The group must look odd in the eyes of the oncoming cars, but they could care less. Finally, they make it to the convenience store. They replace their shoes on their feet and attempt to calm their contagious laughter. Trying to look semi-presentable in their saturated hair and sopping clothes, the girls walk through the door.


I had the urge to write something, but i'm no writter.
Love, ashley