Rain

ফেরিওয়ালা The rain started with a soft whisper, like a secret passed between the clouds and the earth. It began as a gentle mist, the kind that only dusts your skin and leaves the scent of wet earth hanging in the air. Emily sat by the window, her hand resting on the cool glass, watching the drops roll down in delicate streams. The sky was a pale gray, the horizon blurred as if the world was still deciding whether to wake up or remain in a dream. The first real raindrops fell like quiet footsteps, a rhythm that slowly built into a song. It tapped against the roof, drummed on the windows, and trickled down the leaves of the old oak tree outside. Emily had always loved the rain. There was something soothing about the way it washed the world clean, as if it could erase everything troubling or tired. Out in the garden, small puddles began to form. The flowers, which had been parched by the sun for days, seemed to breathe easier now. Their petals shimmered under the weight of the water, bending slightly but never breaking. Emily imagined they were grateful, drinking in the cool rain after days of longing for it. As the rain grew heavier, it became a steady roar, the kind that could drown out even the loudest of thoughts. Emily wrapped her fingers around the mug of tea she'd been holding and took a sip, letting the warmth spread through her. She closed her eyes and listened, feeling the rain wash away the noise inside her mind too. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled, low and steady, like the sound of the earth shifting in its sleep. The wind picked up, tossing the branches of the trees in wild arcs. But Emily didn’t mind. Even the storm had its own beauty. It was the kind of rain that demanded to be heard, to be felt, reminding everyone of the power that lay just beyond their control. She opened the window slightly, just enough to let in the cool, damp air. The smell of rain—fresh, alive—filled the room. She breathed it in, feeling connected to the world outside, to the soil, the leaves, and the streams forming along the sidewalk. It was as if the rain wasn’t just falling on the world, but into it, soaking into its very core, reminding everything that it was alive and constantly changing. Hours passed, but Emily didn’t notice. The rain had lulled her into a kind of peaceful trance. She stayed there, by the window, until the storm began to soften. The thunder moved farther away, the heavy droplets turning back into a gentle drizzle. The clouds began to part, revealing faint patches of blue. By the time the rain stopped entirely, the world outside looked different. The air was clear, the colors richer. The garden seemed more vibrant, the flowers standing tall again. The puddles, once deep, were beginning to evaporate, but for now, they held reflections of the sky above. Emily smiled. The rain had come and gone, but it left the world—and her—feeling just a little bit renewed.