The rain is pouring hard, millions of droplets hitting the ground all at the same time. Some fall on the roofs of buildings, some on the pavement. Some goes back to the bodies of water where they first came from.

And some mix with the bitter tears from someone's eyes, its coldness blending with the pain and sorrow coming out from a person's hurting, basking their weakness by washing away the proof of breaking down.

He never liked the rain. It makes everything cold and wet and gloomy. It can freeze you to death. It can ruin the beauty of things. It can wash away the colors of a beautiful painting and can fade the perfect moments captured in a photograph.

To him, rain is something that has more disadvantage than its positive effects.

But not today. He thank the rain for numbing his pain. He thank the rain for hiding his tears.,He thank the rain for falling, because it seems that the heavens are crying with him. Today, he like the rain.

She always loved the rain. She loved it because they can cuddle on their bed all day when it rains. She loved it because of the soft pitter-pattering sound it creates that was a music to her ears. She loved it because she related life with the rain.

Once she told him, "Life is so much like the rain. And we people are the raindrops. We fall on different places; some drops first, others comes later. The moment we hit the ground, we can either be a part of something bigger, or we can just dry up when the sun comes. And when it is warm enough, we all turn into vapor and be one with the clouds, back home where we belong. Back to where we began. Then we fall down on earth once ag