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[an error occurred while processing this directive] The rain fell relentlessly. Where as it once had symbolized life, the rain now symbolized death. At the first sign of the clouds moving in, those out in the open sought cover. The homeless found their cardboard boxes, and put off their search in the rubble for another day. I glanced out my window. It was on the 6th floor, over looking the gates, the doors to reality. I looked up at the smokestacks, the whispy grey smoke floating towards a darkened sky. I looked down at the masses of people huddled together. Saw the smoke rise and merge with the clouds. Saw the clouds rain upon the city. Saw the rain. Saw the tiny blades of green grass fade to yellow, and then to brown. Realized what I had done. Sipped my coffee.

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