The rain continued to pour as only rain. Droplets stayed as droplets, coming down as light drizzles first, but it wasn't long before the true downpour finally commenced.
I was perfectly content sitting there amidst the dampening blades of grass, didn't feel like taking shelter, didn't at all feel like leaving the rain. For hours, I could have sat there, come the break of dawn, and you'd still find me unmoving from that same spot, that same position - staring wistfully away at absolutely nothing.
The moment I opened that front door behind me, the very second I walked the steps into the living room hall, I knew I'd have to be looking into their eyes again.
False alarm. Wasn't Blight, after all. I would have been the bearer of the bestest news we've heard all night. Still, the fact that it ever rained at all simply meant that I couldn't do exactly what they trusted me to do.
What would they have to say to me for it?
I'm running out of ideas on what to write in this author's note.