[A.N - this story is written by ME, kirsten, on march 22 2k2. it's very short, yes. the entire story is one huge metaphor. if you take it literally, it's still okay, but the plot is really entirely different. don't ask me questions unless you know me. i WON'T answer. and don't even think you coudld figure this one out. you.can't.]

Raindrops fall, first slowly, than quickly progressing into a faster, harder steady rainfall. This is the epitome of true beauty and perfection. Complete amazement shines from his face as he watches it change back and forth every time he looks up. He’s trying to pay attention to his work, but the rain holds him better. The “ping”ing sounds the drops make at first, and then the crash many of them together create. He’s seen rain quite a bit in his life, spending the duration of his life in a place notorious for it’s thunderstorms. But this is different. The rain here falls so marvelously, he can’t help but get up, ignoring the bewildered looks of those around him, and walk outside to be apart of it. Here, the temperature’s so warm when it rains. He smiles and spins around, letting the rain coat his full body. Wandering back in the room, he shakes out the long hair, soaking the floor. He’s completely drenched, but that doesn’t seem to faze him as he sits back down and picks up right where he left off.

Questions? Comments? Tell Me.