Crier
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It still rains in the sites, y'know?

Sure, it ain't the usual. The lightning always strikes warehouse five. The rain never really seems to hit'cha. But it still pours, it still thunders, it still rains.

There's still the scents, the aches, the pains. Iron, bloody scent, never washing out, always cuttin' through the petrichor. Probably why most folks stay inside. Easier not to smell.

There's still the drops clinging to the windows, illuminating the spotlights, slicking the guard dogs' coats as they whimper, rustin' the rifles, forever outstretched into the darkness. Probably why most folks close their blinds. Easier not to see.

There's still the rapping on the windows, on the roofs, lettin' itself be known, sloughing off the eaves like individual Niagaras. There's still the flowing through the gutters as the torrents are routed. Probably why most folks wear some headphones. Easier not to hear.

But it never rains down on us. Never rains down on me, y'know?

I ended up purchasin' a waterproof pad, a waterproof pen, and every time it starts, even though it ain't too often, I pack up my things and head out, just sit for a while. Still gotta work, still gotta write documents, but there's a… call. I couldn't tell ya what draws me to it. All I can tell ya is that I gotta smell it, gotta see it, gotta hear it.

The blood chokes you, the downpour blinds you, the thunder deafens you.

But you never get wet. I never get wet, y'know?

I never really get to go offsite, nobody ever really does anymore, but rumor has it that it follows ya wherever ya go. It's like the water bends around ya. 's funny. I've been to… lotta sites. Seen it happen with the snow, seen it happen with the hail. You name a precipitation, I've seen it. But they ain't the same.

Nothin's ever the same as the rain.

When… When I was a kid, I used to always run out. Even in the thunderstorms. There was the draw then too, y'know. To smell the fuckin' dirt smell. To see the drops wickin' off your skin. To feel the pitter-patter on your face, to close your eyes, to lose your tears in the rain.

I ain't a kid anymore. I got a job, got lives in my hands. Human race 'n all. But I still cry, I still cry in the rain.

I miss the dirt. I miss the feeling. I miss feeling… cleansed.

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