Rain 18 🔥

The first drop hit my wrist. Then my cheek. Then the crown of my head.

I call this specific phenomenon . Act I: The Smell of Petrichor and Panic Let me set the scene. I was sitting on the curb outside a diner called "The Rusty Spoon." It was 11:47 PM. I had just quit my summer job at a grocery store because my manager told me I had "no ambition." He was probably right. But at eighteen, ambition feels like a lie adults tell you to make you run faster on a treadmill that goes nowhere. Rain 18

— For the girl in the yellow raincoat, wherever you are. The first drop hit my wrist