Time Stops Rain

Rains. It always rains here.
I used to not mind the grey. It brought light to things that usually people don't pay attention to. To things I usually don't pay attention to.
Like the color of your socks. The golden gleam on the wristwatch my grandfather gave me when I was 12. How light blonde Trey is, and how her olive skin is flawless and is actually glowing. Which makes me jealous. Hannah's boots show it's outstanding quality underneath the drizzle.

I used to not mind the grey. It accentuates the warmth in the smallest places. Like the corner between your neck and left shoulder. The faint beat of your heart behind your left earlobe.

When it rains, strangely, I seem to unable to remember what it's like when it's not raining. How does it sound like, smells like, looks like. The grey puts a heavy blanket to my senses and memory. It is now. Now and no other time.

Now when it rains time stops still while everyone else is running. Running to avoid the rain.

I think I shall stay and try to remember how once I used to not mind the grey.