Monsoon Season

The clouds have returned. It seems I can’t escape them these days. They blew in a few years back and never quite dissipated. Last summer they thickened like a scab slowly engulfing an open wound. They thickened into a fog and finally I had no choice but to slice through it, the sun piercing through the grey, blinding and true. But sadly, much like their behavior in this sloping prison of a valley, the clouds sank back into view. Now they hang all around my ears and lungs, ruthless and cold. They muffle the music. They dim the light. They force my bruised knees to the ground, and they laugh when I wince. The wind is picking up now, and droplets are racing on the swirling flurries. You thought we left, they seem to cackle. Silly, stupid girl. But I am not a girl, and I don’t feel very silly anymore.