Acacia cast herself into the warmth of the musky stairwell careening toward the private classroom. Before entering, she threw on her frock. The professor raised a furry eyebrow, curious in his black, white, and brown tweed uniform. His peppery appearance wasn’t scatter-brained yet it gave away his organized quirks.
“Acacia you were late hearing my lecture. I was finished telling of my incident with the lawn mower in the rain. You will be excused if you have an extra donut.”
She was convinced enough to smile, showing her slight amusement. “I do but—
“Alright, if that’s enough for you, then take a seat.” Acacia shook the rain from her umbrella and left a puddle under her chair. The students raised some eyebrows either at the professor or her exaggerated incident.
She snuck her sleep medication out from her rain jacket and then took a sip of her tea. As soon as she settled down she was certain the professor did not intend any resentment. Suddenly the night class gave her a creative motive which eased her own jabs into a requiem. The more she thought about the rain, the squabble of her parents, the professor, and the other highfalutin authorities in town, the more ideas ignited. Her diary was enough of a creative writing assignment.
The professor stopped. “I’ve read myths about the rain—myths that only occur under this type of downpour. ‘Sometimes rain cleanses our sorrows, sometimes it drenches them. The water spirits are held captive in the clouds only to fall from the heavens. Soon we would return to the heavens,’ wrote Hyas.”
And soon everything became a blur.