It's raining, after a heat of a hundred and seven degrees. It's only the thirtieth of April, but I can't hear anything other than the rain on the roof. I feel cheated on; downpour shouldn't start until July. I haven't even gotten close to a beach to sit on a rock and pretend I'm a nereid, and out of nowhere that bipolar witch of a weather decides it's time to get our coats out because the real summer's over. Now I'm just a kiddo on break for the next thirty-seven days. Thankyouverymuchdearweather.
