Rain. The unmistakable beat of heavy drops spattering the windshield. The dark sky brought on by the weighted clouds, so reminiscent of night. Headlights could not pave a path through the downpour. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

“Are we almost there?”

“No.”

“How much longer?”

“Soon.”

Silence. The small cabin of the car heard only the sound of the rain consistently pounding the thick glass. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.
The girl looked out the window. There was so much green, she had never seen so much green before. Dark, rich, pine, green. There was a distinguished lack of yellow and brown in the gloomy landscape.

“I’m bored.” The girl whined helplessly.

“Play a game, or watch a movie.”

“I want to get out of the car.”

The woman didn’t respond. Her eyes were glued to the road, invisible in the rain. The girl hated rain. To dim, to dark, to cold. The girl hated it.
“When do I get to see my dad?” asked the girl, hope coloring her voice as a transparent sheen.
Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

“Soon.”

Lies. The girl could taste the lies on the woman’s tongue, she could hear it in her voice as it vibrated through the car. Lies came in the rain. Pain came in the rain. Sorrow always came with the rain.

“I want to see my dad.” No more questions. Just answers.
“Not now, soon, you will see him soon.” More lies, how she hated lies. She hated lies more than she hated the rain, but the two were nearly indistinguishable in her mind now.
Lies always came in the rain.
The girl looked out the darkened pane once more. There was no more green. Only tall, gray buildings, and bright vibrant lights. They were driving through a city now, that was better than green, mused the girl. Anything was better than green. Except the rain, and petty lies. Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

“Where do you want to eat?” asked the woman. A fake question, she wasn’t asking. The girl didn’t respond. The woman didn’t care.

“We’re eating at here.” said the woman.
Minutes later, the car pulled into a parking lot. The girl raced through the rain to the shelter under the eaves. The woman hurried delicately on her to high heels trying not to trip. Inside smelled horribly of grease. The girl watched a fat couple shove large, dripping hamburgers into their wide mouths. “I’m not hungry.”

The woman glanced at her shortly. “Fine.” And the woman left her and stepped up to order herself a fat juicy hamburger.
The girl stood by the window looking out at her life. It was still raining outside. It was still raining lies.