Itβs raining again.
The droplets pelt the window in a muted symphony.
Your hands reach and absently trace thick lines through the condensation.
You think of the melted ice cream running through your fingers in the warm afternoons.
Of your laughing friends and family you shared picnics with.
Itβs raining again and your body quivers with chill.
I pick up your knitted blanket.
Your beautiful eyes widen with emotion.
I knitted it just for you.
I learned from your sister.
She was a good person.
Your family were good people.
I carefully slide the blanket through the metal bars to give you.
You hesitate, but eventually wrap the soft fibers around your trembling flesh.
I softly call your name.
Your head snaps on me.
Instinctive.
Conditioned.
Good.
The better you understand where you belong,
The better you remember the rhythm of the rainfall on the day I saved you,
The more Iβll make your every moment feel like a warm sunny day.