The rain beats down on the window. The air crackles with heat and the fire hangs with a certain humid tension, lazily licking the unneeded logs.


The rain beats down on the window. Fat raindrops slowly roll by to the rata-tat- tat of their cohorts until plopping out of sight. The air cackles.


The rain beats down on the window. Spilt tea envelopes the worn-out coffee table with sides rubbed raw by time. A teacup dangles precariously, drops, suddenly abandoned by wilting fingers. Rata-tat- tat, the rain beats down on the window. Spinning wildly, it suddenly stops. The chandelier sways uneasily. Rata- tat- tat.



The rain beats down on the window. 'I'm weary'. A soft puff of air escapes closing lips. 'I'm so very tired'.