
Prologue:
Delicate crystals of frost embraced the bottom of the window. The warm rain ran over them, turning them into puddles of water. As the drops slid down they left streaks of smaller drops behind them, leaving it to be collected by another.
You could say that the rain and the frost are just like life. You could say that the rain is the tears from so many. You could say that people who think this are crazy. But who knows? Maybe I am.
