Looking up at the two spherical lights hanging above our dining room table, seeing rain drip from tree leaves through the window behind the lights, it looks like the raindrops fall from the lights themselves. Like tears from a giant, fluorescent doll.
I'm lying on the couch across the room wondering when the rain will stop, knowing I need it to stop before I can get out and complete today's tasks, hoping it won't so that I can't. Content to do nothing.
The city's on hold today. Streets may as well be shut down. Everyone inside their houses and their heads, dealing with issues of the day or of a lifetime. At least that's how I imagine everyone from my couch.
When the rain stops and the sun comes out, I shut the lights over the dining room table. They've cried enough for one day, those lights. They need to sleep for a while and cool down, whether people remain indoors or go out.