I stare out the window. That's what I always do when I need to think.

It's raining again.  It seems to always rain on days like this. Sleeping late because of bad dreams. Lacks of conversation with my friends. Just a do-nothing day. But you still have to do things. Move your feet, get out of bed, get changed, get stared at by strangers.

I watch a drop of water slide down my circular window. Some days, I feel like the raindrops on the window. Sliding along with an intention to do something, but not knowing what.

I don't realize I said that out loud until Ghost replies with, "You always make the weirdest analogies, Violet."

I spin around to face the pale, thin boy that I call Ghost for a good reason. He looks back at me with those eyes of his. He wants to say more, but he won't.

I don't say anything back.

I slowly turn back to the window. I don't know what else Ghost does, but I don't care. I just want to continue watching the rain fall gracefully, soulfully, to the ground outside.

That's the thing about rain.

It has a soul.

Sometimes it comes down full of anger, vengeance, like we humans did something wrong.

Sometimes it falls lightly, peacefully, as if to thank someone or something down on the earth.

Rain is lucky.

It can express itself to whomever it wants.

It has more freedom than me.