I sit in the warmth of my blankets and listen to the thrum of the rain against the glass of my little window. Faint little sounds making music for my heart who beats against the rhythm. My eyes follow the paths these drops make, trailing the tiny rivers against the frosted, misty pane and imagine red as the color of the liquid that flows within. Warm and dark, paving its path against the brown of the earth, pooling against raised grounds, marks bygone. My breath shudders at the memory as clear as the cloudless sky, and I’m brought back to the melody of the old companion. I step out of my fort, feet bare, toes cold, and drag myself towards the only medium that separates the storm outside from the storm within. It is as if the universe weeps for me as I witness the sky pour onto the world below. My heart warms at the thought and I smile for the first time in a while. I turn and allow my feet to take me back to my haven again. Today is going to be a good day.