Rain
RAIN The parade of jet black cumulus clouds sulking at the horizon, creeping forwards, gaining on him every minute, prophecized the storm that was going to hit the town any time now. Almost 2.6 km below the clouds, from the balcony of his home, overlooking the parched city street that called out to the heavens, longing for rain like a hungry child crying for milk, sat a timid soul watching agape at the gathering clouds, with a single red rose clutched tightly in his hand, his expression a gloomy reflection of the storm that was about to quench the earth and drench his spirits. It was so astonishing, how the ecstasy he was in just an hour ago turned sour as a rotten bitter gourd in a matter of just minutes. Caught in a wave of desperation, he offered his bloody bitten fingernails to the earth, hoping that the earth would accept his nails to quench her thirst and the clouds would simply fade away. He prayed that somehow by miracle the rain wouldn't fall. At least not in the city or ...