Rain

There is a tornado warning tonight, mother and father called twice to remind me to stay in. Reading Aristotle, eating Wasabi peas, and drinking tea by yourself is not a bad way to spend the last semester of college. I sit and listen to the wind howling outside of the window, stomping and twirling in the rain, setting off rows of fancy automobile alarms. If only I was light enough, I could be engulfed away in that piercing melody, twisted and churned, my thoughts and impulses rearranged and sent back anew. I could melt with those splotches of water drops on the glass, twinkling with yellow street light. I could learn the rhythm of rain drops, beating or drizzling as I please. Maybe then I would think of this sickening feeling with fond memories. Surely I will.