Rain from Ida

Some days, rain is all there is.

It's thicker than blood during a storm. I cannot hold rain; it holds me with skies the color of my eyes and just as deep.

I wonder what the cat sitting in the window thinks of rain. Does she know it flows through her calico shadow as it flows through my veins?

The rain draws us together because there's nothing else. I see Ida's projected path on the radar, far away from us though her rain is here and now and a connexion between me and all I know.

Here with my book...