She was a tiny thing, shivering against the windowpane. She loved to watch the rain fall. She didn’t mind being small, in this world this was all it was. Rivers raced down the glass so thin while her hot breath fogged the view. She drew with careful precision, over and over, her name.
The clock ticks nearby, and after the rain begins to dry. She cuddles into bed, drawing covers to her head. Big eyes close to sleep as the rain soothes her to dream.
And in the morning, bluebirds sing her name.
INTO THIS DEEP 