I asked the grey man in front, “Why are you grey?” To my surprise, the man responded, “This world, the woes of youth… as my body rots, it seemed to have gotten to me. And now, I will perish into the grey clouds of lonely slumber, only bringing storm and rain.”
I stopped and pondered before uttering my response, “But you hydrate this lonesome world. Grey turns to white once the storm passes; are you not just doing your part? In this undying cycle of life, I think the rain is nice; it’s refreshing, so you shall be refreshing too.”
The man seemed to soften his gaze like the moonlight glancing into the curtain when one sleeps. He just smiled before slowly closing his eyes, and then his time came. So whenever it rains, I run outside to soak it in. For the rain is refreshing, and so was the grey man.