Ficly

Just Me and the Rain

Do you enjoy the rain?

I enjoy it alot. I always have. When I was younger, I would savor every drop that landed on my skin, even if they were intermingled with hail, or coupled with freezing weather or lightning strikes. Umbrellas were for the weak, rain boots for the shallow. The swirling rainbows of oil atop a puddle could keep my interest for many seconds longer than it ever should have.

My friends in middle school shared my love. During recess, we’d take turns standing under a roof corner, allowing the waterfall to drench us. The monitors never noticed, but our after-lunch science teacher did. She quickly learned to keep towels on hand during monsoon season.

Once I tried to get out of PE by stepping in a mud puddle. It didn’t work.

In high school, I was friendless for a time, and the rain kept me company. Teen girls sneered beneath their umbrellas, and I sat at the bus stop, waving the bus to pass, so it could douse me in a tidal wave, like being in the splash zone at Sea World.

I didn’t feel alone.

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