Under the Rain
Some days don't ask to be bright — they only ask to be sat through, slowly, with the sound of water on glass. Six places, six kinds of quiet, all of them a little wetter than usual.
"The glass keeps its own record of the rain."
garden window — rain streaking the pane, watching quietly
"The stone remembers every storm that's passed through."
temple courtyard — rain falling into open stone, sheltered under the eaves
"The river doesn't mind the rain — they're the same water."
riverside dock — rain rippling the water, umbrella in hand
"Steam and rain meet somewhere above the water."
mountain onsen — rain mixing with rising steam, peaks lost in cloud
"Every leaf in here is listening to the roof."
greenhouse — rain drumming on glass, warm and green inside
"The path forward is wetter, but it's still forward."
maple forest — rain through the branches, walking slowly
"Thunder is just the sky, finally saying something out loud."
Six places, one storm passing quietly through all of them. Even the rain has somewhere to be.