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When The Rain Comes before/after Its raining today. I can hear it pelt into the roof, while I'm warm inside. I like the rain. When I was in sixth grade, there was a flood. Weeks and weeks of rain. It was so bad they called off school a little while. Day or two, nothing spectacular. When we got back, our English teacher talked about the rain. She was a flighty old bat. "Do any of you actually like the rain?" she asked. I bravely raised my hand. I say brave because I was the only one, and straying from the herd in sixth grade was verrrrry dangerous. My classmates looked at me as though I was mad, a look I became accustomed to over the years of deliberately trying to spook the people I sat next to, day-after-day-after-day. Indeed, it was a look I enjoyed. Just trying to amuse myself and us all, don't mind me. But on the days it would rain, I would be quiet. Quiet and just stare out the window as the water fell and made everything feel clean again. Usually, anyway. Usually I was quiet when it rained.
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