It was already midnight, but I’m still not home. The road I took was dark and cold despite of the street lights being brighter than the night sky. It must be the clouds. It must be the heavy downpour I was expecting every night.

So I looked up, while walking, not afraid of the rain. How could I? It was the only thing hiding my tears to myself. But not to the clouds. They know your feelings, even the ones you choose to forget.

The clouds looked down to me. As they spoke, a sprinkle of rain came pouring down. “Don’t let the drizzle fool you. It’s just the beginning.”

“Beginning? So what’s the end?”, I replied, the rain touching my dry lips and my tired eyes.

“The heavy rain doesn’t pour yet. And when it does, you’ll be thankful of the flood”, said the clouds as the rain gradually increases.

‘Heavy rain?’, I thought to myself. “When will it come?”, I shouted to the clouds, worrying. I was still far from home, and I didn’t know if I really wanted to enjoy the rain in the deepest of night.

They didn’t respond. I was left on the road, wondering. The rain was starting to get heavy, so I hurried my way home.

But it was too late. The heavy rain poured down, and I was left soaking wet. The flood came, and its stream sent me to a perpetual slumber, a morningless one.

Then I was home.

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