when it rains . . .

photo by Wilson Lau

Lana smiled to herself as she sat in her roomette on the train, “At last, away from the family, and not cramped on some stupid plane next to some drunken jerk.”

She watched the wet collage of green roll past, thinking “Nature is having a good cry;wonder if tears of sorrow, or joy, tears of remorse or rejoice.”

“Lana, get yourself together,” she thought, “h*ll, it’s only rain – remember you’re on the way to Atlanta to be an intern on the Weather Channel for the summer.”


Written on a sunny afternoon, well actually after supper, so in the nice dusky dusk, for Three Line Tales, Week Eighteen, hosted by Sonya @ Only 100 Words. Thanks, Sonya!


8 thoughts on “when it rains . . .

the time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things . . .

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