eyes-wide-open

   To those who like the rain, I do not sit and wonder why. I simply smile at life and the fact there are people who still like the rain.   My inkbottle spilled. I thought for an instant to get a cloth, but that thought was soon dismissed as I decided to watch it a bit. It crept like a plague, blackening the surface of the oak table as it moved towards the edge at snail's pace. Stretching out a glossy finger, the ink extended its reach until a drip was formed. An instant brought it to the floor with a subtle, tap. Fast-formed fingers rose up, but returned again hastily to the fist of ink that first cast them.   I closed my eyes.