The Weight of Water

The rain had been falling for nine days.

Not the gentle spring rain that coaxes flowers from the earth, nor the dramatic summer thunderstorms that clear the air and leave everything smelling fresh and new. This was autumn rain—relentless, cold, and steady. It drummed against the roof of my cottage, seeped through the weathered wooden frames of the windows, and turned the dirt road leading to town into a treacherous river of mud.