You Are Not Alone

The rain fell, it seemed, nonstop for a month. Streets flooded, water rushed under bridges, and still the rain fell. One wet morning in July, coffee in hand and mixed emotions brewing, I looked out the window of my apartment. Raindrops beat against the glass blurring the cityscape below. I sighed. Soon I would leave this place. It all seemed unreal—the rain, the past two years, and what might come next.