There’s a type of rain that doesn’t ask you to hurry. It drizzles gently, as if the sky itself is daydreaming. On these days, the world softens around the edges—pavements glisten like silver, and trees drip with something that feels like poetry.
I like to sit by the window and watch the droplets race each other down the glass. There’s always one that lingers behind, stubbornly slow, taking its time like it knows it’s being watched.
There’s a certain song I only play when it rains, something slow and piano-heavy, the kind of melody that blends into the patter of water. It’s not sadness, but something quieter—a reminder that even the sky needs to cry sometimes. And in those moments, I don’t feel lonely. I feel held.
xoxo evie ︵‿୨♡୧‿︵
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