It’s Raining, It’s Pouring
A very short story.
Jul 28, 2017 · 1 min read
The rain stings my skin. Ouch, I tell him. It hurts.
Papa stops walking and puts my hood up to cover my face. He says it wasn’t always like this.
I do like he does and put my bandana back over face. I start singing my song for him. It doesn’t make him smile like I want it to.
Rain on the grass,
Rain on the tree,
Rain on the rooftops,
But never on me.
