On the morning of the fourth day, the gentler, more sporadic rain mirrored her somewhat more uplifted mood, she thought. Yet it wasn’t until she settled at the table with her morning coffee, inhaled its nutty scent, and felt her spirits lift that she was sure. Because as she felt the knot of tension in her shoulders melt away, the clouds parted, and improbably, a shaft of sunlight pierced the fog blanketing the neighborhood and sparkled off the raindrops on her lawn.
Avigayil knew, of course, that she was off her rocker. But the illusion persisted, and when she felt cheerful enough to sing with her toddler when he awoke refreshed from his nap, a gentle sun burned away the fog, and a warm breeze the neighborhood hadn’t enjoyed for days caressed her rhododendron bushes.
In the days that followed, Avigayil’s suspicions deepened to an awful certainty. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry the day her husband asked casually, “Nasty weather this morning. Why such a rotten mood?”
Sensing her uncertainty, the sky obliged with the most bizarre sun shower.
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