Every day I watch Sara at her work. Day in, day out. I know her moods and the facial expressions that go with them so well I compare them to the weather. Most days she is like fog, her thoughts and emotions hidden from the rest of the world like fog hiding a city. The best days are when she is sunny. When Sara is sunny, her eyes sparkle, she smiles, and it feels like the sun beaming a ray of sunshine down on me. If I'm lucky, I can break through the layer of fog to see the shining sun. But not often.

On bad days it's as if she's cloudy. Others, perhaps, may confuse cloudy days with foggy days and say they're one and the same, by they're different, very different. On cloudy days she is angry. Her tongue flies at anyone brave, or stupid, enough to come near her. It's like her tongue's sparking lightning, the way they all scurry away after talking to her. Sometimes cloudy days mean Sara's sad, and this can lead to rain. The rain starts slowly, escaping her eyes. Sara tries to hide it beneath a layer of fog but I can see it.

When Sara's gone, it's night. Darkness covers everything and I have no way of knowing whether it'd be sunny or foggy, cloudy or raining. I just wait it out, waiting for my sun to return to brighten up my life, one beam of sunshine at a time.