RAIN ARRIVES SUDDENLY, AS IT'S OUGHT TO DO, AND DRIVES MARUKA THROUGH THE NEAREST DOORWAY AND INTO THE PAST ╱ feat. @ofglitterz
the streets, a moment ago full with those returning home from work, are quickly drained of their occupancy once the downpour starts. as if the people too are swept into the rain gutters, they linger under shop awnings, eyes upturned to the sky with the hopeful resentment of children waiting for a parent's permission. maruka is among few who continue in stride, moving undeterred down through the town square. wetness has never bothered her. as she passes the throngs of those huddled under shelter, she thinks absently that she should mind, that this lack of care is one of the small absences in her heart that was meant to be filled in, but can't bring herself to mind. it's too familiar, the sensation of hair sticking to the back of her neck.
but the universe, of course, is a trickster at heart. what nihilists attribute to randomness and a lack of care is instead instead artfulness and a sense of sly humour. by the time the pace of the rain increases and her coat begins to soak through to the paper files sheltered beneath, in the moment at which she stops to consider options, she's in front of a familiar door. by the time she enters and begins to observe a display, drenched to the point of condensing by the rain, she looks more herself than ever: slender as a river reed and just as bound to the water.