Missing the mist that parted when legs cut slick steps on that damp day, weather gone until the next run meets that specific precipitation. Wistful for wet days, not that of a deluge, but the foggy days with occasional sprinkles making the air so palpable… that is what I long for. Around the corner they wait, I know, but the desire is there now. One day soon, it will to be washed away, slipping into the grayness and leaving me fulfilled.
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