The rain

Outside, it smells like memories.
The wet concrete smell of rain, the scent of earth, the soft, cool breeze bringing these to me through your window. For the first time, in a long time, I'm calm.
The soft sound of typing fills the room, I'm worried it'll wake you up, but then I remember that you sleep like the dead, so I don't bother as much with trying to be quiet.
The rain has a calming effect on me that not many things do, a nearly melancholy feeling that stirs in my heart, in my lungs. I'm sleepy, but the night beckons to me, and though it'll be a pointless night, sitting up alone, it'll be better than the bad dreams I've been having lately. Better than the memories that rain does not remind me of, which haunt my sleeping hours. The cold makes my hands hurt, joints cracking, but I love it.
And so, good night. As the rain drips so softly I can't hear it outside, good night.