It is a pity that the sky does not one day rain virtual cats and dogs. Maybe if I looked hard enough, Jesse would be one of them.
The rain dropped from the grey sky like a thousand fallen angels stripped of their wings that had once kept them adrift. Their color went from flawless crystal to irish black, until finally exploding like powder smoke beneath our feet. There they lay, refusing to move, as they awaited our trampling feet tear them into shreds. Their blood was colorless, and therefore, the world does not understand, or comprehend the slightest of their tragedies.The tragedies of dropping clean from the sky, and ending up into explosive smokes of dark hazard. Nobody would know who they were except for their distinguished selves, and it wouldn’t matter.
Jesse used to detest rain. The rain gave him chills and he would circle the house whenever the back of his brain sent in a storm alert to make sure that his loved ones were safe and sound. If one of us were to duck out of his sight, he would go frantic. His little legs would carry him around the room, half floating, as he knocked over vases and break windows. He would only stop until he sees the person standing in front of him in one peice, then he would quiet down and whimper an embarrased whimper as if apologizing for the mess he’s created.
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