Camouflage-I

It rained often those days. Actually, that wasn't true. It never rained during the days - only in the nights, as if the nights really needed to be cleansed. As if some kind of a sin sneaked in under the cover of darkness every night that needed to be dissolved, or at least hidden, so the morning could be bright and sunny for the world to see. It rained every night so that one could sob in the pillow and not be heard over the din of the drops of water lashing at the window, screeching to be let in, to dissolve the dirtiness inside. But I never opened the window. If I had, I'd probably have jumped off it as well.
I wish I had.