Damp cotton drenched in drops from the sky. It was all that kept her from being exposed to the wetness coming down in torrential torrents.
Drip, drip, drip.
Shoving her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie, she stood out in the rain, head bowed as though receiving a blessing. Her hoodie did nothing to keep her dry. Soggy socks would be stripped from her feet as soon as she got home.
Even her front pocket was wet. Her hands didn't notice one single difference between being in the pocket or out of them aside for being cradled in a wet cotton pouch. A tiny difference, then.
The back of her neck felt hot and clammy. Her long hair kept the damp cotton away from her skin. It felt horrible, it felt strange, it was uncomfortable.
She blinked, then flinched and blinked again after getting a drop of water in her eye. Even her eyelashes were wet. Good thing she wore her contacts that day.
It was enough for one day. Time to go home, back to dry clothes, comfort and soup.
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