Average Evening

Blue eyes stare back at their perfect reflection in the calm water below, studying their unkempt locks of hair, wide observant eyes and ivory skin dotted with specks of brown. Slender fingers trailing over the stone edge of the bridge railing as their shoulders relax from their natural tense state and eyes move to look around at the surrounding area. Feet eventually take up moving once again sending them down the rest of the curved bridge then take up following the edge of the wide river.  Chocolate brown hair falling from where it was neatly tucked behind a pierced ear to shadow the right side of their face as eyes linger on the mirrored image in the river that distorts as a breeze starts up.
Eyes move from the distorted image to watch blades of grass and the few scattered flowers bend to the breeze’s force. Moving off of the well-traveled path down the branching path of the permanently bent grass that leads to the shinning beacon they call home. The tent is a sunshine yellow and stands out from its grassy surroundings. It is slightly raggedy and a bit small but it is their home. The tent brings a small smile to their lost looking face as they walk towards it.
Rain lets out a small yawn as they walk in, laying down on the hard ground, staring up at the tent’s ceiling before wandering eyes move to stare out of the tent’s entrance. They watch the clouds sluggishly crawl across the bright blue sky as they try to discern the strange patterns the clouds create. A shadow is casted occasionally as a cloud blocks out the shinning orb in the sky. Rain eventually moves to sit at the edge of the tent, eyes fixed on the clouds that pass by. Restless fingers eventually finding their way to the grass blades outside of the tent. Clever fingers picking a blade and tying knots into it, subconsciously, before tossing the used blade beside them and then picking out another to be twisted to their desire.
Dark clouds take over the sky and the bright world greys. Droplets are quick to fall to the earth below, splattering over the back of Rain’s hand as it darts out to pick out a new strand of grass. They sit there for a moment, watching the light rain intensify. With another grass blade tossed aside and a deciding thought they stand, closing the entrance flap slightly as to not let in the rain. Stooping slightly to pick up the small pile of grass knots to add them to their already growing collection that is piled against the front wall of the tent. With another yawn they move to the back of the tent and curl against the back wall, staring out of the small gap in the entrance at the darkening world outside that is the only source of light in the tent. The rain splatters rhythmically against the sturdy tent, slowly lulling Rain asleep.