The wind is blowing in the trees outside the window. A steady rain falls softly, tapping on the sill with a gentle urgency. Crickets serenade one another in the wet grass. I am reminded of evenings spent at my grandparents' house when I was a child. Something about the sound of it all smells green and screened in like the porch. They're both gone now, but the crickets sing on, undaunted.
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