The Night That Needed RainI laid on my bed in warm night air, too hot to sleep.
I opened the window hoping for some breeze to cool me down.
Enough blew in to let me know that such things did exist.
Then I smelt it.
Wet hot concrete.
When the rain reached my house, heavy pings came from my roof.
The wind picked up and seemed to invade my room as it looked for shelter from the falling water.
I turned over and sighed.
Within moments I was asleep.
I looked down at the ink as it soaked into the paper on my desk. It wasn't bad, but I knew it could be better.
“But it's correct,” Facts said from her window seat as she looked out at the rain falling.
“Of course it's right, but it sounds a little empty,” I protested.
“It could use a bit more colour,” Art said from behind her easel and canvas. I saw her stained and vibrantly coloured apron as it shifted about with each new stroke she made. “Talk about how dark the room was. That it was so black that