I love the rain.
I love cold places.
The funny thing is, I hate the cold.
But bundling up in layers and layers of clothing, or curled up like stupid, lazy cat under a thick, warm duvet — ah, very few things in the world could top this blissful feeling.
When it rains at night I would run into my bathroom and run a bath.
I’d open up the sliding doors and let the rain come in. Between the fragrant bubbles and the scorching hot water filling the tub so slowly, I would sink into unconsciousness but for the occasional spray of cool rain droplets falling on my face.
I guess that perfectly sums up who I am.
Cold. But always seeking for warmth. Somewhere.