I could smell the rain


I could smell the rain on the edge of the clouds as soon as I walked outside.  It was an eerily gray day; days can be grayer than others, but this day was a peculiar shade.  The day before had been a very yellow day, filled with some orange in between.  The sun was shining the entire morning, a beautiful day compared to the past few months of dreary winter and lack of sunlight.


The exam was over.  I pushed open the doors and stared up into the sky.  It had turned grayer during the hour I had been furiously scribbling down scraps of information, hoping they would be the right one in the professor’s eyes.  The clouds were pouring down rain, in sheets, onto the sidewalk, onto the school, onto the grass.  I tucked my newspaper into my coat, braced myself, and ran out into the cold rain.  It seemed to be coming down harder, in a sort of teasing race with me–who would reach the ground first, who would get to the door of my dorm faster?  I was running so fast that I didn’t think to look down at my shoes and the path, and so I splashed into puddles on my way.  Inside, I slipped off my soaked flats and let my feet dry.

The carpet sent a tingling sensation along my spine, tickling my feet.  I realized it had been a long time since I had put my bare feet on the carpet.  The winter made it difficult to go without socks for one day.

I wiped a towel on my feet, pulled on a pair of socks, and pushed my feet into my rain boots.  Ready for the rain this time, I grabbed my umbrella and left my room.


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