The rain beat viciously against the glass panel, charging towards e. I sat in my room; a pen was in my hand, the guitar laid soundless on the floor, the weather was singing me a melancholic melody, a surge of perplexity was over whelming me. I stood, thinking of how to write the next lyric, killing time just to wait for a reply that never came.
Minutes passed, the seconds were hell, and I jotted down anything that went through my mind, anything that could express the dejection I was feeling. The sky was crying, she wailed and bailed as thought her heart was smashed into bits.
“Maybe she is,” I thought, I moved my own hands towards my chest. I felt a faint thump, it was heavy, and yet, it sounded hollow, emptied, as though shredded into pieces. The rain drummed louder and fiercer, it stormed and roared angrily.
The song book laid on the table, droplets of ink had smudged. The song was not completed, but I could not bring myself to finish it. I searched the fragments of my heart for a reason to move on, was I strong enough? I did not know, I could only go where fate takes me, finally, I wrote the title of the song, “it’s a rainy day”.

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