It's raining outside, which seems to be happening a lot these days. The sound of the rain as it falls, the little pitter patter the drops make as they hit the ground, they weave a blanket around my consciousness. The sharp edges of buildings, trees and light are made indistinct and tender. I am more introspective, as if rain too has seeped into my mind.

On days like this, I want nothing more than quiet company. The kind where speech is superfluous, and words insufficient. Where I barely remember that you are there, only reminded by the warmth of your arms around me, the gentle touch of your hands in mine, and the feel of your chest against my head. The world goes still around us, and in the silence of that moment, dreams are made. Dreams of light and wonder, of lives lived and lost, of what could have been and what is to come. Dreams of great possibilities and dreams of incapacitating fear, dreams that nourish the best of being human, and dreams that recall the worst.
  
Rainy days are always terribly lonely for me. I hope it stops raining soon.