If you took the rain out of the city then all there would be is smoke. I can still feel the sting in the air. Sometimes I take pieces from my mind and put it on paper. Everyone asks if it’s a made up story- I laugh and say, “always”. A part of me left this world long ago and I’ve been chasing her ghost ever since. But, I swear I see her in hues from street lamps, shadows around corners, buried in thick, smokey air, puddles from the rain. All these things lead back to some sense of finality. A closing statement. The last line. A period mark. A chaotic twist that stays with you forever. Messy punctuation and all.

-AMT ©️