"the rain is full of ghosts tonight."
"what?"
"the ghosts."
"the ghosts?"
"the ghosts. every last drop. the way the moonlight glints off each one, can't you see it? all those ripples in the puddles, collections of wishes, puddles of regrets. they're little flickers of hope, aren't they? it's a chance to, just for a second, feel again."
"i don't see it."
"i didn't think you would. don't suppose you can feel it, either."
"it's just rain, dear."
"it's cold. and the way the drops roll off, roll, roll, roll. they have hope. water alone can't feel like this can, can it?"
"you look awfully dry, love, for knowing that much."
"only took a little dip."
"mm, are there that many ghosts, then?"
"no, no, they're just. . . present."
"present?"
"yeah."
"ah, alright."
"d'you wanna dance with me?"
"what?"
"dance in the rain."
"with the ghosts?"
"yeah."
"that's a bit odd, don't you think, dear?"
"'s alright. they don't mind."
"ah, who am i to say no?"
"yeah, not you is who you are. go ahead, follow."
Author Notes: omg im actually sort of proud of this
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United States • 16 years old