The last time I walked in the rain, free of boring adult concerns like falling sick getting my stuff wet etc etc yawn, was about five years ago.
Since then, I can't tell you what has changed inside me but something must have, becase here I am at a random busstop, refusing to walk the 800 metres home because I don't wish to get my overpriced handbag wet.
Which is not necessarily a bad thing; The sky weeps gently down at the trees all around me, and I feel like crying along, too. Perhaps it's this kind of pain that cuts the deepest and hurts the most keenly, a lingering kind of agony mixed with bitterness.
Aren't we supposed to become better at this as we grow older?
