pensiveThere is a little light outside, from the house across the street, and the sky is brighter than the houses below it. Rain means clouds, and clouds mean the lights of suburbia are reflected back upon it, brighter than any night is supposed to be. I love the rain, but I wish I could see the stars; irratinally, I wish I could see both at the same time. The stars hold secrets, mysteries, questions to be answered, yet they are so far away that we may never find those answers.
Not that I could see the stars here anyway. There is too much light for more the a couple dozen to show themselves.
I turn back to the screens and type. If I cannot find answers up there, perhaps I can find some in here.
