The rain pounded on the roof of the car, trying to seep in through any cracks it can find. The engine rumbled, angry at the sky for crying. In the corner of my eye, I saw her drum her fingers on the window as she curled her knees closer to her body, resting her head on the door. As we drove to school, we listened to the band Daughter echo from the backseat till it poured into the front seats.
"Look at how the trees take the beating of the rain. They take in the harsh smacks against their soft leaves and they take in the thunderstorms; they don't let their fears turn them rotten." She whispered.
"They're strong, love. They've been here since the beginning of time. They've seen everything from forbidden love be engraved into their barks to a little girl hanging a swing on one of their branches. They've seen dinosaurs roam the streets of this land, long before skyscrapers and taxi cars. I think we should learn from them, you know?"
"How?" She sat up.
"Don't let the world ruin your beauty. Take in the nastiness, take in the beatings, and shine brighter, healthier, than they would expect you to. It only makes them surprised at your strength."
YOU ARE READING
therapy
Short Story"they told us that we needed therapy, as if medication and tainted words could fix broken toys."
