Creative Writing: The First Raindrop
Without delay the rest of the rain follows. Clementine stood still getting drenched by the rain, a witness to the creation of puddles. The ripples made her angry. To her they were phantom vibrations of an invisible laughter that filled her with shame and rage within the confinements of the pale lime coloured hallways of her memory.
Standing only a few feet away from the building where she clenched her left fist, and realised the tension to free her fingers and to relax her thoughts, about what happened only a few hours