someone left the cake out in the rain

She stands inside the door looking out at a vengeful summer storm. The withered decorations look like melting cake through the beveled glass and she sings that song, the one about the cake left out in the rain. It was all planned so perfectly.

There were colors, brightness, moments of joy to be had. And then the dark hovered, weighed down on them until the weight broke the clouds and they spilled over, a cascade of whispers and false hope flooding everything in site.

She stares out at the mess, hums the song and accepts that she is the rain.