Camping in the Concrete Jungle: Release

One at a time the tiny droplets begin to speckle the concrete.

The breath catches in the back of my throat as my skin prickles under the sting of the incoming rain, there is no cover in sight and the gray clouds loom ominously above.

The rushing of feet to a hurried beat create an unsteady rhythm against the pavement and breaths come in worried whispers that wonder when the real storm will appear.

Not far off, the sky dances. Lines of rain sway back and forth to the call of the wind and wave to those below. Lightening flashes its smile and thunder bellows its hello and then it hits.

Showering upon my head, the water pours down from the clouds and in moments, shoes, pants and shirt are made defenseless and my bones are soaked to their core by this unfamiliar warmth.

Relinquished to the storm, all worries are let go of, for they can no longer be of use.

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