When it Rains, it Pours

I’ve experienced a different kind of monsoon this year. In a strange new city, amidst vaguely familiar people. I heard the pitter patter of raindrops falling against my window panes. I heard the thunderstorm unleashing at your end too over our early morning calls. The coffee tastes different, more fulfilling somehow. The days pass by quickly, less mundane somehow. And weekends, oh the weekends are divine. For on weekends, the rains truly shine. And on weekends, you find the time to be mine. If only for a moment, if only till it’s raining outside.

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