she was an illusion. a theatric.

he heard a thunderstorm when all she was was a light sprinkle on the tin roof.

but then he realized he didn't care for either. what he really enjoyed was how brightly the sun shone in her aftermath, the way the gray and yellow birds chirped and pecked at the ground, twitching their hind feathers around. that's what he really loved.

he just needed to find that kind of girl.

a/n

i wrote this late one night when my power was out so all i was doing was sitting in the dark, listening to the rain.