‘…twelve, thirteen, fourteen…’
She waits. On the sixteenth second, a thunderclap echoes through the hollow sky. The rain is hesitating, not yet knowing when to pour from the heavens; a few raindrops stray away in search of their own destiny, marking the path that thousands will soon follow.
Briefly, she ponders about the satisfaction of waiting for something to happen. The way a meal tastes so much better after travelling for an hour and a half to get back home, or the way the excitement builds when you’re waiting for the host to announce who’s safe until next week’s voting. The way the rain instantly calms her and her erratic thoughts, like the way the spray from a hose gently washes away childish scribbles made of chalk and imagination on the sidewalk.
She briefly ponders if this applies to people, as well. If she waited long enough, would they come back around again?
Pit. Pat. A few drops leak out to introduce the upcoming barrage of water. Moments pass; thin sheets of rain thrum against her roof.
It’s another thought for another day.