Dashing through the pouring rain, head ducked under her interlocked fingers, she cut a sorry figure as she attempted to escape the splattering of raindrops on her head by seeking refuge under the narrow canopy. Once safely inside, she raised one hand against her brow and looked upward, shielding her eyes against the dim streetlight, at the black sky above. She stood staring for about a minute before letting out a resigned sigh and leaning back, gravel rubbing against her dress, proceeding to pluck out the leaves and straw from her hair. She was only momentarily startled when the streetlight went off after a sudden flash of lightning. It was better that way, anyhow. Darkness suited her well. She closed her eyes, and opened them again, reassuring herself against the persistent blackness. She lost count of the number of bright flashes after a half hour. Her ears accustomed to the constant beating of water by then, she felt almost as though she was at peace, alone, in silence. It was at times like these that her brain finally shut off and all that occupied space in her thoughts was the silence, the darkness, the consistency of an uninterrupted rhythm. It was rare – for dreams of the next minute or the next day not to plague her, for the unfinished arguments and unsaid words of yesterday not to resound in her head. It wouldn’t last. It never did. The first threads of conscious thought were already beginning to form in her head. She wouldn’t register them yet. Instead, she waited as the night drew on like a large, irenic, empty space, tendrils of thought from the dark, sleeping recesses of her subconscious lazily reaching out towards an end that eluded them as tirelessly as they roved.