Rain. Rain. Falling incessantly from the dark, pummelling the puddles of its legacy. Pounding metal. Taping glass. The roads’ surface shivers with glistening liquid in the artificial light of the ungodly hour. Spray flies like the exhaust of an inverted showerhead. Vehicles pass through the flood as though it were a bright, sunny day. Momentarily I lose visual contact with the road as a truck roars past in the opposite direction. The roundabout near the lake: its cup overflows. Rainwater hasn’t run away and gathered, flooding the gutter and crossing the camber. Need to pass over slowly… Light bounces off translucent tears as rain taps on my roof, and windscreen. Rain. Rain. Incessant rain…


About malekmontag

I am a writer and a wage-slave, and proud father of George Giraffe. I live in the UK, but I exist everywhere. My first stories were published this year (2016) in Short Stories and Tall Tales (Atla Publishing). Follow me on Twitter @Malek_Montag15. My Work is also available on Niume.com.
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