the flayed nerves are skin deep only, and the skin is thinning; the rain drowns out the sounds of old bones. and it is rain which defines the night, not intent.
in spite of this the girl sits and tells us that she meant to go dance in the rain, but it ended before she had her chance. her words change nothing; she winces, understands, and falls silent. the rain fills what follows and she shrugs and begins to ache.
she aches and envisions things and drifts toward the end of night. the rain begins again and the girl begins to realize she has missed her last chances at the things she envisions. she searches the worries which once beset her younger selves and finds nothing resembling a night like this, but nearly everything else. she considers what passed her by while she was preoccupied thinking one unfounded thing after another was after her, toying idly with the irony of it all while resisting regrets with the belief that all she really missed were chances to regret different things.
she dozes and the night passes and the the rain remains and the day begins before the dreams end; the girl lingers between, the storm speaks to her there. she sits and listens intently, sifting through each nuance for any meaning maybe hidden within.
the girl drifts and aches and sifts and finally finds one pure thing but in that exact instant it hits her and she remembers nothing matters and fails to notice the answer as it falls from her hands.
she allows a wry smile and settles into the rest of whatever this is in spite of whatever it was meant to be. she envisions nothing and is interrupted by a lull in the rain, left alone with only the sound of her own breath, wondering when it will end. and the rain begins again and the girl remains silent, still waiting.