We all wait for rain.

I stand in anticipation, longing for it's soft release.  Apart from the others I smell the rain well before it reaches me.  Head held against the darkening sky, I remember.  I brace, holding the imprint of her gaze and can still feel her lower lip beneath my own, knowing soon the rain will wash that away.

The rain is so small it covers me.  I cannot and will not resist an intruder so small, so determined.

Whispers and droplets sting my skin as I stand against this necessary baptism.  Each droplet carries the promise of absolution and its quiet threat of forgiveness.  I do not yearn for salvation, yet I succumb without incident.

All I wanted was to remember her lip beneath my own but the rain has taken that away.