‘Why are we standing in the rain?’ her friend asked her a little agitatedly. She had nothing to say to it because she had no idea why they were standing in the rain. It was a beautiful day. The rain had washed the dust off the trees, making the greens and the browns extremely vivid. The sky was in a different mood, changing shades and never settling for one.
She kept walking under the umbrella that her friend was holding for both of them. She was doing so more for the comfort of her friend than for herself. The rain had never bothered her. She liked all the dirt and water. She wanted to be a part of it all, a drop of rain, a leaf of a tree soaked with raindrops, a small part of a cloud pregnant with water, ready to empty itself or a speck of soil…
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