She loved the rain, the feel of the cold, clear droplets of water on her skin. The sound of water hitting the ground was music to her ears. Most people hate the rain. They hate how it gets all dark and dreary and how you always have to be careful so as to avoid getting mud on your shoes. But she was different. She knew it, as did everyone else around her. I refer to her as "she" because calling her by a name would somehow lessen her greatness. She didn't care of what people thought to her or the fact that shoe could catch pneumonia by standing in the rain like that. She was an enigma, kind of like a drug that I was addicted to. No matter how hard I tried, I could get rid of my thoughts about her, not that I ever wanted to.
I'd known her all my life, yet never once had I spoken to her. Haley wasn't part of the popular group but nevertheless people liked her and also to some extent admired her for being who they couldn't be. She was nice to everyone, everyone except me. Well she didn't like or hate me per say, it was more like she didn't have any feelings toward me. That hurt. That hurt a lot. At the time I would have even settled for being hated by her, any thing from her was better than nothing at all. It was not until much later that I found out just how wrong I was about her...