llover

It is raining outside.

It is actually raining outside and I am on the verge of crying because I have wanted rain for so long. The wind is whispering of wanderlust again, just as it always has, as it always will be long after I have vacated this place.

The driveway is wet, and I do not have to worry about ice forming to threaten a safe travel tomorrow. Maybe the grass will start growing again- by the time it becomes a more lively shade of green again, I won’t live here, but maybe the next inhabitant will enjoy it.

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