Sight

The sky was a vast canvas of monotone color, grey and dreary. People scuttled all around, like ants crawling along a forest floor, intent only on their work, their destination, on survival. She stood in the middle. A solid dot in a blur. Stillness in chaos.

The sky began to fall, weeping tears of sorrow on the bustle below, trying to be felt through thick wool and blue denim. Hues burst out in flashes on the street, impeding its path, umbrellas opening and shunning the damp coldness. She stood in the middle heedless. A lone figure without protection. Welcoming the rain.

The sky shouted, growling its fury and showing its hatred. It sent electricity down in arcs of light, trying to disrupt the ignorance it saw. The streets emptied, flesh disappearing into buildings made of hard stone and brick. She stood in the middle. A dark spot in an empty street. Alone in the storm.

The sky grew calm, light peeking out from behind black and illuminating her still figure in warmth. Footsteps sounded again, splashing through puddles and trudging onward. Then there was a voice, soft and concerned in her ear as the owner took in her wet visage and pale sightless eyes. “Miss, are you okay?”

The sky was quiet as she turned, a soft smile painting her lips as she whispered, “I felt the rain, and it let me see.”