A Day with Many Hues
The cold of concrete bites into the soles of my feet as I run around the drawing-room, being chased by my mum, who urges me to wear more than underwear on a crisp day with skies torn from hues of grey. I hear my mum’s voice wander away to the kitchen, and my giggles from the pursuit subside; the sudden silence has me noticing the pitter-patter noises from the outdoors. Through the terrace’s opening, I see the drops of rain in chaos dancing in small puddles. I edge closer with a curious bounce in my step. I stick out a hand into a curtain of precipitation, dazzled by its engulfing cool embrace, which gives me the urge to dance along with the raindrops. Acting on my desire, I step into the downpour. The air is thick with balmy humidity, and the raindrops invigorate my skin, stealing some warmth away with every splash. I frolic and whirl away, trying to keep up with the swaying rains. My mum is now at the opening of the terrace demanding me to “Get inside!” and yelling “You are going to catch a cold!”. I do not understand why I would step away from this rain so wild and void of any patterns. Even though the air is warm, my body betrays me with shudders and chattering teeth from the creeping cool wetness of the rain. As I cave for the dry towel in my mum’s arms, my mind schemes ploys of future dances in rainstorms, even if the cost is my health.
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