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Weekly Contest #97
Soft night rain hit the windowsill. The droplets rolled into each other as they slipped down the glass, the steak of water trailing behind the only reaming testament of their existence. A finite moment in a larger forgotten day. Over and over they fell, striking the window with a soft ‘plop,’ ‘plop,’ ‘plop.’ It wasn’t quite a heavy rain, and it wasn’t quite a drizzle. It was that rain that came precisely on evenings in June. The raindrops fell and she waited, watching. She no longer knew how much time had passed, minutes, hours, da...
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