On drizzly nights, she makes a cup of mint tea and sits in the breakfast nook. Before she takes a sip, she opens the window just wide enough to stick her cupped hand into the night air. Then she drinks warm tea while collecting cool rain, half in and half out of the world.
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Replying to @MicroFlashFic
She remembers her mother's sad eyes on the day she left, and the bitter, angry words before the accident. Tears on her cheeks, she raises her hand to her face, washing them away with rain. Baptised, until the next melancholy day.
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