10

She giggles as the cool drops land on her skin and she can't help but look towards the source. As the rain falls like hundreds of silver comets from the nebulous sky, her eyes close while her vision opens. It is a blessing, she thinks.

Or. 

She is the rain itself, sent from above just so she could know what it felt like to fall onto soft skin and split into a million pieces. Perhaps meaning is made where the question is heard, not where it is answered.

-Still, Between