The rain almost seemed alive as it scattered
from the trees and houses onto the hot ground.
It was cold.
The coupling of the two bore a thin, ghostly steam.
The night hugged her like a warm vignette.
She wore gypsy boots, a cowl hoodie, and a camera around her neck.
She liked the way the lights danced in the water.
As the steam lingered, as if hypnotized by the slick, black diamonds slowly dripping from the sky.
The music in her head, as does her voice, has no sound.
Not silent.
Not to be heard, to be played.
It is the only thing that moves her.
She almost seems happy when she's dancing in the rain.
Tonight, tonight.