So the signal has ringed to announce the end of last period of another day of classes.

And it was raining heavily outside, in surges on this day in early Spring. All the students were running out, trying to avoid it by hiding themselves benath the shelters, as she could wonder.

Remembrances...

She opens her closet to remove two brown packets from there - then she sits ove one of the bunks to remove her maryjane shoes( yes, strangely she started to use those, after years preferring boots ), wearing the soft yellow rubber boots and tying its strings to avoid that water cold leak in, wearing a thick( and also yellow )rubber raincoat, feelling its weight over her shoulders, prevading the rain that, as she can hear it, keeps falling even heavier, outside. Since it was a Friday´s afternoon and, though her satisfaction on her work, but her actual tiredness she couldn´t prevent the same feeling that haunted her, foremost relaxed she tried to be and enjoy the couple of free( ? )days she earned, for a relaxing weekend.

Because it would be just another one, indeed. Another one, and alone.

So,

When she finally she´s finally making her way to leave the school´s building, she´s actually trapped between the heavy, windy rain and the closing doors. Though as stronger the rain( now, quite a storm )falls, she still doesn´t want to dealy anyone else who would be responsible to close the building, preparing herself to face the raging weather that was being cooked since the( still, cool )morning; but now, once the rain and wind. Sighing defiantly she jumps into there.

Nothing could be as cold as the feeling of lonelyness that she would need to face further, no matter how she tried against it into the next two days - but she still tries too. "How futile", an inner voice says; but she tries it, still. Alone under the shelter, she hears the doors being closed eargerly behind her, while the omnipresent rain striking back against the ground AND walls, embracing the folders with the homeworks( maybe, something to distract her for that feeling for the next days )against her chest protectively againt the rain that manage to leak inside her clothes, trying to walk as steadyly as possibly out to the next shelter; though the light wooly clothing she wears beneath, her knees are now soaked, unprotected by the raincoat that flaps under the harsh wind, and she feels so cold - in fact, early Spring evenings can also be as cold as Winter´s, too. It would be a long way to home.

Not as long as HER home, though. ...

Alone.
Crossing the gates, alone again.