The rain pattering against my bedroom window wakes me up. My eyes open to meet the silhouette of the working desk and chair with the streetlights faintly seeping through the darkness. A chill hangs in the air and it makes my room alien. I think, this is not my room. The bed feels cold, unyielding, stony even. I draw my knees to my chest and huddle into my quilt, urging for some sort of warmth, any warmth. I close my eyes tight to let the emptiness flows with time, till salvation comes in the form of daybreak.
PS: Rainy nights are when I wish I could wake up to a warm body beside me, to cuddle, to cherish.
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