The raindrops pelt my hair, my face, my arms, my hands until I am drenched.
I stand in the empty street, arms outstretched, palms turned upwards, embracing the clouds above.
I know eyes are watching me from behind nets, behind doors held slightly ajar and deep in the shadows just out of reach of the streetlight’s glare.
I know they are whispering behind hands and underneath raised eyebrows – to them I am the woman who has lost her mind with grief, for nobody sane stands in the street, in the rain, in her nightgown.
But I do – it is a relief to feel something other than the weight of profound loss – it is a relief to feel so refreshed.
Freya Writes... 
Freya, this is absolutely exquisite. Bravo!
Thank you so much!
Ah, if they could only shed their conventionality cloaks and ran out to let the rain wash off some of the awful, too…
Great setting, mood and tone… I can see the place, the glances from the darkness; and feel her relief as Nature refreshes the skin of her spirit.
Yes. `following convention certainly has its place, but sometimes I think it serves to constrict and restrict our animal instincts. I’m very pleased that you enjoyed the read.
I feel refreshed and alive just reading this fabulous “fiction”!
Good, I am glad!
very nice Freya… one should have these moments of efreshment in life
Moments of refreshment may be called crazy by others, but as long as they do the job, does the word used really matter, I wonder? Thank you!
Nicely written.. 🙂
Thank you!
Nicely written. Its refreshing indeed.!
I’m pleased it worked for you 🙂