Presently, the sky cried. It cried so hard that the gutters in the streets could barely keep up. People hesitated stepping outside, looking between their umbrellas and the skies and deciding it better to wait inside. Though, of course, there were some hooligans that liked this sort of weather. They too would take a look between themselves and the rain, but decide to run out into it, screaming with beaming smiles. Those kinds of people were really alive. They cast aside their thoughts and could run into a hazy white canvas, spraying each other and the world with their own colors.
Maybe they're the ones who look at a trees leaves and say its green, or paint every flower as they feel like it, or shake up neon lights like a can of spray paint. It truly was a wonder how they had that kind of energy. Maybe they loved the beauty of the world beyond what everyone else says it is, laughing when they want.
Sometimes, one would wonder how colorful their world really looks to them. Whether the rain glistened like diamonds or the skies had hidden hues within the grey clouds. Though maybe that kind of word was always so loud that they couldn't help but scream from the high.
They're the kind of people you remember when going by. Some would look at them and grin, others would look out and sigh as if a rope had tightened in their chest. They're kind of people you're honestly jealous of, with their eyes lit up so vibrantly, you wish you could run out and shine like they could so naturally. To smile like they could, to jump like they could, to breathe like they could.
