Rain Forest Doll Girl Melancholy

I stopped counting the days. The rain does it for me, one drop at a time, and I have learned to trust the rain more than clocks.

I carry her with me. The doll. She does not speak, which is why I like her. The trees here used to speak, before they died. Now they just stand and watch, which is worse.

There is a boy with an umbrella who walks these paths sometimes. He does not see me. I do not mind. It is enough to know someone else is also walking in the rain.

I found a room full of dolls once, in a house that should not have doors. They sat in rows, all looking forward, all waiting for someone who never came. I left before I became one of them.

The ghost with the broken umbrella told me the rain never stops for people like us. She was smiling when she said it. I think that was the saddest part.