All right. So it didn't rain. In fact, it was crazily gorgeous outside, a reprise of summer's best.
And while I wrote outside, marveling at orange leaves against the clear sky, tonight I'm still missing rain.
So I rummaged around and came up with the next best thing: There's dark chocolate. And a glass of red wine. And I'm listening to Edith Piaf.
I'm in luck--it's not a perfectly clean recording. And in the faint, underlying hiss, I can imagine all the rain I need. I'll even sing along, pretending that I know enough French. I sing nasal gibberish, she hits the right words and notes, and somehow it's exactly what I wanted.