For a little over a thousand days she woke up breathless,

Trembling as the crisp morning air skated over her sweaty body.

She tugged on her cold sheets for warmth,

But soon noticed the raindrops scattered on the window sill.

She sat up on her bed and reached for the glass of water on her bedside table—

And gulped it down.

     The rain still bothered her.

She angrily walked to the window to close it shut.

She pulled down the blinds, too.

Her eyes were bitter and wet,

     Not from the rain but because of it.

She sat back down on her very neat bed,

Just to stare into the white wall across from her.

Her eyes fixated on the white coat hanger on the left—

The black skirt she had worn for a job interview

Her favorite white blouse now missing three buttons

The coat wrinkled and stained from drowning in the rain.

     None of the clothes had been touched since that night.

No, she could not dare touch them—

Her hands remembered the night four years ago.

     The rain still bothered her.