The rain fell like a bridal veil, so soft, onto the sidewalk, mixing with spilled gasoline to form oil rainbows in the gutter. A willow bent over the colonial country street, skirting a peeling white picket fence, its branches dancing in the wind. The quaint houses sprung like flowers from the ground, paint fading around screen doors left open in the summer heat. One door flapped open.
Me: a young, willowy woman in a red and white plaid sundress and combat boots stepped out, my smile illuminating the drizzle. My dark, rosy hair spilled like snakes down my shoulders, loose curls like Titian red seen through sunglasses. I yawned, stretched, and ran a hand through my hair, watching the rain pool on my stoop.
