Sometimes, it feels like the rain never stops. The raindrops are like little silver pellets, fired at us from an unsuspecting plane, an entire group of them passing over us. No one looks up anymore, the initial curiosity has long since faded. Instead, the pellets have become part of our lives, another thing to brush off our coats and continue walking. Sometimes we will run for shelter if it's particularly rough, find a small ridge to hide under, wait a few minutes, then continue walking. There's been no flooding so far, and we're weary of that. But life must continue - who else will teach the young and tend for the sick and clean the streets?
It happened to be a different colour today, though. Like God was wounded and wanted everyone to realise. Little red droplets, like pen ink, easily ignored but still unsettling. I got some on my coat today, initially thought nothing of it, then realised that as I smudged it, my thumb was stamped by it. I let myself look up, and noticed the start of the cascade of heart-coloured drops. Soon I noticed a woman was doing the same, perhaps because I was doing it - no one looks up anymore, after all.
"Is...is that...blood rain?" she asked as if I knew.
"Could be." I continued to shuffle on; she continued looking up in confusion. Ahead, I could see an evermore bruising cloud, and prepared to take out my umbrella for later. Traffic was beginning to come to a standstill around me. There was some beeping before the drivers realised what was happening. Suddenly, I wondered what it tasted like. Was it like blood, or perhaps a pleasant wine? Either way, I didn't want to know. I headed on, certain nothing would come of it. If I had to, I'd hide by a supermarket car park and wait it out. But there was no need. The rain will never stop, after all, my boss would never wait for me.
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