I walk along downtown's fawn-colored sidewalks. The air smells moist and everything seems to be waiting with anticipation. Even the spines on the leaves seem stiff, as though they needn't move for fear of a fierce chastisement. A cold breeze whistles around my rose-tipped ears and I feel it blow in my sleeves and crawl up my arms. Goosebumps form as I shiver to try to keep my warmth about me. Finally succeeding, I sigh and watch my breath escape and dissipate into the gray, rumbling clouds.

As I look up, a drop splashes onto my cheek. I jump and blink as the shock brings me back to reality. It tickles as it runs down my face and to my chin, from which I wipe it away with my fingers. A second drop hits me on the shoulder, attempting to penetrate through to my skin. Being unable to succeed, it beads upon my coat then races another drop down my sleeve.

More drops begin to fall to earth, creating a soothing patter as each liquid crystal breaks upon the ground. I look to the worn, red brick walls of the old dance studios and bakeries. The droplets meander down the stone as if dodging invisible obstacles. Once they reach the edge of the brick, they stay suspended, trembling and hanging on for a brief moment. Finally, losing their grip, they slowly fall and drip onto the sidewalk below.

Seeing the rain create a curtain about me, I reach into my coat, revealing my purple umbrella. Holding onto the handle with one hand, I extend its sleek, silver neck until it clicks into place. From there, I push the metal clasp upward. The chrome knees unbend, unfurling the thin, impermeable material.

I walk along downtown's fawn-colored sidewalks. The air smells moist and everything seems to be waiting with anticipation. Even the spines on the leaves seem stiff, as though they needn't move for fear of a fierce chastisement. A cold breeze whistles around my rose-tipped ears and I feel it blow in my sleeves and crawl up my arms. Goosebumps form as I shiver to try to keep my warmth about me. Finally succeeding, I sigh and watch my breath escape and dissipate into the gray, rumbling clouds.

As I look up, a drop splashes onto my cheek. I jump and blink as the shock brings me back to reality. It tickles as it runs down my face and to my chin, from which I wipe it away with my fingers. A second drop hits me on the shoulder, attempting to penetrate through to my skin. Being unable to succeed, it beads upon my coat then races another drop down my sleeve.

More drops begin to fall to earth, creating a soothing patter as each liquid crystal breaks upon the ground. I look to the worn, red brick walls of the old dance studios and bakeries. The droplets meander down the stone as if dodging invisible obstacles. Once they reach the edge of the brick, they stay suspended, trembling and hanging on for a brief moment. Finally, losing their grip, they slowly fall and drip onto the sidewalk below.

Seeing the rain create a curtain about me, I reach into my coat, revealing my purple umbrella. Holding onto the handle with one hand, I extend its sleek, silver neck until it clicks into place. From there, I push the metal clasp upward. The chrome knees unbend, unfurling the thin, impermeable material.

I place the umbrella above me and continue to leisurely stroll down the glistening walkways. Immediately ahead, I can see the rain trickling down my dome-shaped shield, diverting the rain onto an alternative course. I hear the tapping as each tear from the sky splatters onto the insensitive, slick material. They roll away and tumble to the ground.

Looking down, I see old newspapers and candy bar wrappers lying troubled on the ground. Without the rain securing them against the concrete, the wind would have sent them like tumbleweeds, blowing from block to block. But indeed, the rain has now made the paper transparent and it lies distraught on the concrete. Old stories and headlines become fuzzy and they run to follow the small creeks now created by the rainwater. The waxy candy wrappers bend and tremble each time a droplet executes its mark upon them.

I watch the cracks in the sidewalk, carefully stepping over each one. In the gaps between the blocks of concrete, I see plants struggling against all odds just to survive. They quiver each time a drop hits their leaves, and they stand helplessly as the rain carries away the soil surrounding their roots. Still, with only light and something to nourish them, they can thrive and beat the odds, no matter how much against them. These odds do not matter to them, for all they want is to blossom, grow, and prove they are capable of anything.

I feel the air change and a warmer gust of wind brushes my cheeks. Though the rain still drums a steady rhythm against the ground, a bird has begun to sing from a dry, protected overhang. The leaves now rustle and giggle, for they celebrate the victories of survival. The victories of life.

Feeling overprotected from the elements, I lower my umbrella and close my eyes. I tilt my head back and stick out my tongue. I taste the rain and feel the drops run down my face.

It tickles.