Tap, tap, tap. The rain drummed against my bedroom window, leaving me wide awake. There was the beat of the rain mixed with a distant police siren and the sound of cars driving on drenched asphalt; it was vexatious. My eyes were opened toward the window, squinting at the street light outside. With a groan, I pulled the quilted blanket over my shoulders and rolled over.

On the other side of my bed, I was met with the green eyes of Ozzie. The furball stared at me through small slits and immediately started purring. I started stroking his soft, grey fur, and his eyes closed, and he directly fell asleep. The creamy feeling of his fluff instantly covered me in comfort. The sound of the pouring rain was no longer my concern, for Ozzie’s purring was the only sound playing through my mind. The soothing sound of Ozzie’s loud purrs lulled me into a dreamless slumber where I had no recognition of the pounding precipitation.

However, the next morning when I awoke to a cold bedside, the horrible melody of the rain crept back to my ears. Disgruntled, I rolled my eyes and rose from the bed. Ozzie promptly circled my feet, stared at me with his enticing green eyes and meowed. It was breakfast time.

I fed Ozzie and grabbed some orange juice from the refrigerator. I sat at the small island and watched Ozzie guzzle down his food. The crunching and slurping sounds were overpowered by the disturbing downpour and the gentle humming of my cheap kitchen light. I knew that sooner or later, I would have to stop ignoring the conspicuous rain, and actually go outside and face it.

With many failed attempts at gathering motivation for the day, I got ready, gave Ozzie a kiss on his wet nose, and stepped outside into the soupy mess of the world. The sodden, murky air made me crinkle my nose. I hated the aroma of rain, never understanding why anyone would want to buy a candle called “Fresh Rain”. It wreaked of soaked pavement and dirty sod. I sneered at the atmosphere in front of me. Rain pinged against the aluminium roof above my head, where I stood gripping my umbrella.  Irritatedly, I hastily made my way to my car and slid inside. I was sopping wet from only forty- five seconds outside, and I knew I shouldn’t have tried to fix my hair.

I drove my busted-up lemon the thirty minute drive to the dull office building where I worked. The raindrops clinked against the roof of my car and my windshield, and my creaky wipers did nothing to improve my vision through fog. Five miles under the speed limit and forty minutes later, I made it to work.

I gathered my things and stepped out of the car. The rain had stopped, and the sun was starting to peek from behind the clouds. The glow of the sun warmed my face, but intensified the moisture of the air. I rolled my eyes. Of course it would be nice now.

 
I trudged into work for nine hours, only to leave and be met with the inevitable rain once again.