Shivers

[rejectomorph]

The rain is back, drumming the roof and playing music in the downspout. The drapes billow, and a draught of cold air brings into the room an earthy scent that has a faint undertone of something slightly sweet, and a bit like almonds. I have no idea what it is. There is little to see tonight, there being no moon to lend the clouds some bit of light, so my awareness is dominated by sound and smell, and the feel of cold and damp. There is a voluptuousness to a cold, rainy night. My fingers may grow numb as I fumble with the keyboard, and my ears tingle with each gust of wind, but even these sensations are a delight, like a cold bowl of ice cream on a hot summer day. I feel downright sybaritic.