Cold.

Tonight marks the beginning of another rainy season. It is serene, pleasing, and bitterly, sharp cold. Light rain falls on the city, and it has been for a while. It grazes only my body, but enough to soak my shoulders translucent, meticulously carving into the skin on my face. It leaves a mark; I can only shiver.

This road that I am walking down, it pleases the eye. Within the tarmac, stained with raindrops that collide into a flowing mirror, yearning, starving for light from whatever may provide. They take on a hue of familiar orange. If you look closely, you could even make out the stars made in quarts, as for those that are above cannot be seen at this moment of dawn. The clouds shield them away tonight.

Look closely. On a path that knows no end, only deep black, grey and orange-yellow luminance... however expanse, however further it need not be acknowledged. You see, for tonight, there is no "definite" path, especially so when one is lost. I cant help to stop and gaze as much as I desire to return, the warmth of a blanket, perhaps embrace.

Let thought consume fully, and drown in this lunacy that I believe. I am certain a crescent moon hangs in the expanse above the clouds, even if it lies in someplace that cannot be seen. Think no more. A silhouette. Further down if you follow the painted road divider lines, it irks a dotted rule that tilts and tilts. and horizon it is. A figure, not a man, human, whatever. Indescribably, I could not form words to its physical presence. My mouth could not grab any words, so it was left shut. By chance it lay on my path, it would hurt not to pay a visit. For now, gazing only at the overgrowth, all slightly shiny from the rain, looking like a certain observer. 

Am I not seeing what is present? or are my eyes playing the fool? It confuses me, it confuses me, that this path supposedly leads to home doesn't end. I've been walking for far longer, and as for control I seem to feel have none. As for it, nondescript, it stood in front now. IT attracts my gaze, so I follow. The raindrops trickle down my soaked hair, down my forehead, the occasional drop landing painfully square in my eyes, forcing a squint. As I got closer, it felt harder to approach it. In the end, I was left dormant unable to move another single step. Whatever it is, it stubbornly wanted me to still.

"Tonight, where is it that you seek to be?"

"To be home," I replied.

"What does this home of yours matter to you?"

"It is a place of shelter to me, from this rain," I replied.

"What is it of disdain that you see in this downpour? Don't you seek any solace in it, or it that it was forgotten in place of comfort."

"I... just want to get home," I muttered.

"I see, your heart is transparent. However, why is it that you fill it by bleeding it dry?"

"..."

"Walk slower, you'll reach home eventually."

"Doesn't this mean ill soak longer in the rain?"

"When you eventually stop walking from now..."

"Welcome home."

The rain crashes down in a sudden gust. As it pomels my forehead, I felt my heart truly sink. Drowning out my hearing, drowning out my vision, as the figure slowly fades away in my blurry vision. It was gone. Looking ahead, I realized this was nothing I knew of on the path home, unfamiliar signs, unfamiliar houses. Everything. Nothing seemed to make sense. I felt empty. Only...

I truly, truly, truly, truly, was empty. So I closed my eyes. The rain now soaked beyond my clothes. It pierces deeply into my heart. 

Tonight, on the orange-stained tarmac, I guess you could say I was home.