And in the August rain, the pavement shimmered. And in that moment, if just for that night, all was right in the world.

There was something so enchanting about August rain. You still had the excitement of summer, yet there was the underlying anticipation of the stillness of fall.

The sun will dissipate any trace of her memory, so much so that you'll think you've been healed, but you'll think of her when it rains.

He was like rain, a subtle nudge to the soul. He arrived quietly, often without warning. At times he'd trickle slowly through her mind, a gentle passing, but before she could run for cover she'd find herself drowning in his memory, flooded with heartache all over again.

Life is prolonged heartache with intermittent intervals of contentment.

Some let life's storms tarnish them, but she was different. Even the most vehement downpour could not break her spirit. She saw it as an opportunity to be cleansed, to rise again glowing radiantly in a tainted world.