Mizo-dA

Constant pattering raindrops, sluicing down the rusted-red tin of the roof journeyed down the gutter with simmering sounds. The mustiness of its melody was enough to lull one to sleep in the night's darkness, as it cast out all other night sounds that a summer's eve might have displayed in another time and place. The rain was thick, heavy, each and every drop ramming against the roof in dense, sharp echoes before it dispersed in dark, forceful monotony. And… how the wet wind pushed against the cracked tiles of the house's wall. For her it might as well seem that nature had responded to her emotions - frustration and suppressed rage that