There’s a moment, when the sky grows dark and grayness takes to the air, where it can go either way. It can rain, or it can not rain. You may sit, half-tensed and not even aware of it, waiting for that first crack of thunder.
I can see it, sometimes, the sheet of rain coming in the distance, spreading a haze of water a bit at a time until suddenly the whole air is filled with it. Sometimes the rain makes things quieter, muted.
Some days it starts and goes on like that for hours, going in rounds of misty rain and huge, intense drops. And other times it’s here and gone in a moment, an indecisive drizzle finished almost when it started.
But the funny thing is that the sky looks the same, sometimes. Heavy, waterlogged. It’s what the sky will do with it we never seem to know.
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