Watching the Glass Weep

I leaned my forehead against the chilly glass pane, watching thick raindrops trickle down in winding paths. 'Hello...' I murmured softly to a lone, sluggish bead that paused mid-glass. It looked tired, dragging itself downward, just like the detective in that black-and-white noir film we watched. I raised a finger and trailed it along the dry side of the glass, racing the droplet down to the wooden sill. When it finally merged into the bottom puddle, I gave a quiet nod of approval, feeling like we had shared an unspoken, weary secret across the pane.#wispersinthedark