He's always liked the rain. The way it gathers in pools in the streets and drips off the gutters. The sound it makes when it falls upon the dilapidated roofs of the city's buildings. The way it pounds relentlessly down on the pavement.

The rain lets out all the feelings he won't allow himself to express.

He watches the raindrops fall on the windowpane as he sits at his desk, unfolding a recent letter from a friend. He smoothes the paper out on the desk and reads the first sentence:

I noticed that you've been feeling blue lately.

He knows that 'feeling blue' is an expression that refers to someone who is feeling very sad or upset about something or someone, but he's never understood why people would use the colour blue to represent such feelings. He's always thought blue to be a nice colour. He thinks that whoever created this saying should have selected the colour pink, for which he's never really cared.

The letter continues:

Let me know if you want to talk about anything.

He shakes his head as he reads this sentence. He doesn't want to talk about anything. He's feeling too pink.

He supposes it's unhealthy to keep such feelings bottled up inside of him, but he doesn't want to upset anyone by expressing them. Especially not the person who sent this letter.

He sighs and turns to face the window again. Sometimes he wishes he could just be a raindrop. Raindrops have a very simple, boring life—they evaporate, condense, and fall. And then the cycle repeats.

Raindrops are never accused of crimes. Raindrops don't receive invitations to the wedding of their beloved to another raindrop. Raindrops don't feel pain.

But he knows that, even as a raindrop, he wouldn't be able to escape his own emotions. The rain is expressive. The rain expresses rage, despair, love, chaos, serenity. That's what he likes about it.

In the evening, the rain continues to pour. He lies in bed, the letter folded neatly on his end table. He inhales slowly as the thoughts of the letter float away like smoke. The thoughts of her—the sender—remain, just as they always will. He breathes out slowly, allowing the sounds of thunder to lull him to sleep.