I can hear the rain hitting off the roof of our kitchen. Drip, drop, drip, drop. Our back garden looks dull and harsh. The abandoned swing set at the back of our garden is rusting. The barks of the trees have darkened. The socks and underwear that are hung on the washing line are soaking wet.
It’s been lashing rain all morning. It rained when I drank my morning cup of coffee. It rained when I curled my hair by my bedroom window. It rained as I washed the dishes. It rained when I chatted to my Mam about what we should have for dinner today.
I feel sad today.
The rain hasn’t stopped today.
Ah, pathetic fallacy.
I hope Annie was right when she said that the sun will come out tomorrow.