"I am the rain," she declared, her voice barely audible over the downpour. "And the rain is me – melancholy, mysterious, and forever misunderstood."

"How delightful," she whispered to herself, "to be dripping wet and utterly alone."

The rain-soaked paths led her to a stagnant pond, where she paused to admire her reflection. Water lilies floated on the surface, like spectral faces staring back at her. Wednesday's gaze lingered on her own image, her makeup smudged, her skin pale and glistening.