Behind stained windows that fog with warm breath, their eyes stare out into the cold, wet world. The rain pours in torrents, splashing against pavement, trapping the poor souls inside. They cast glances to the gray sky, looking for a part in the clouds and hoping the storm will let up soon. There is a flash of lightening that causes the world to glow but then it disappears with a roll of thunder. If those eyes were looking hard enough, they could have seen me in that brilliant flash of light. I watch them, those faces glowing in an artificial haze as they stare out into this weather. They are trapped behind glass.

My body is hidden under the cover of rainfall; they who look out cannot see me because they only see the rain. They dread the rain, the idea of being soaked to the bone, but I relish in the feel of water on my skin, soaking my clothes. The water washes away my impurities and paints my skin with a new coat. I look up at the sky, soaking in the feel of the wet splashes on my face and enjoying the view that not many take time to notice: this view of looking up as the sky breaks open and falls to the earth in shattering shards. Out here in this wet world, I smile because I am free to taste the rain on my lips. I am free to soak all of this in. The rain does not trap me indoors, but it releases me; it renews me.