It’s a perfectly dreary Sunday afternoon, rain splattering across the streets, drenching everything outside of the cozy spot where I have situated myself on my front porch. The drops from the rain individually fall from the roof, dripping down the panels, posts, and flora that encompass my house. I am comfortably nestled into the cushion of my lounge chair, unperturbed by the slight mist of the rain moistening my dry, wan skin. My visage reflects the same countenance I wore to my husband’s funeral a month and a half ago. Life, as I see it, is washed away from my mind, my body, my home, and all other places I must endure without Mitchell’s presence, his earthly existence. Now, I stare out onto the wet, barren streets in search of the hope, life, and familiarity I once had 5 weeks ago.
Tex Tourais on 31 Aug 09Ha! Very clever.
I really like this description -- a very realistic way for a freshman to think about a senior. Also, hyphenate "party-going," as the two words are serving as one adjective
