[ WP ] It started to rain , and it never stopped .

`` Christ, this is getting out of hand.'' I look up at the blotted Sun, peering faintly through the clouds. The faint percussion of raindrops, ceaseless, reminds me to tighten my grip on the dark umbrella I hold. 
 
 `` Is it?'' Sam's voice was quiet and subdued, yet clear through the rain. I turned to face her, standing at my side with a peculiar smile. She searched my concerned eyes and offered a light shrug. `` I do n't understand why you're worried,'' she murmured as she scanned the grey horizon, an amorphous blanket atop the rocky green cliffs. Through the liquid pattering we could hear the distant roar of the ocean, reminding us of a coast hidden by the mist. 
 
 I frowned at her words. `` I do n't know if you've noticed, Sis, but it's been raining just a little.'' I swing my free hand in an exaggerated arc. `` You know, for, like, the past three *months*? Does that not concern you? The scientifically inexplicable shift in climate? The, uh, socio-economic implications? All that stuff?'' 
 
 Sam only kept smiling. `` A lot of things are inexplicable to me, Alex,'' she answered, `` and to you, too. It's just a little rain. What's the use in worrying?'' She paused to take a deep breath, eyes closed as though she was savouring something in the air. It perplexed me. There had been nothing in the air except *water* for ninety days now. Sure, the rain smelt nice at first, but all novelty wears off. 
 
 `` I do n't understand you, Sam,'' I grumbled, glancing over my shoulder at our neocolonial cottage, dull against the sky. `` This is n't good. When it rains, floods happen. Farms are all screwed up. Balances are thrown off.'' 
 
 Somehow, Sam giggled at that. `` We're both twelve, Alex,'' she chided. `` Let's not pretend to understand all the *socio-economic implications* just because we've watched a little CBC news.'' I wanted to protest, but something inside me realized she was right. I was probably only parroting the television. I hardly knew the first thing about agriculture, anyway. 
 
 She reached a hand out from underneath her umbrella, and for a moment we watched as individual droplets accumulated quietly, growing and merging into ever growing pools on her palm. `` Besides,'' she said, still focused on her hand, `` have n't you noticed?'' 
 
 I frowned again. `` Noticed what?'' 
 
 Sam closed her hand and shook the moisture out, returning it to her side with a smile. `` Everyone *says* we're in trouble, but I have n't heard of anything happening yet. Not a single flood, famine, or war because of this. Nothing.'' 
 
 `` That ca n't be right,'' I objected, racking my brain. `` Just yesterday we watched that show about flash floods in the desert.'' 
 
 `` Yes,'' she replied, `` but that was about flash flood *risks*. There have n't actually been any in the past months. The rain over every desert is just a weak drizzle'' 
 
 `` Wait, but... what about overwatering our crops? Do n't plants die if you give them too much water?'' 
 
 `` They do,'' Sam conceded, `` but wherever it matters, the rain is never heavy enough to drown a single plant.'' 
 
 `` But they show so many clips of heavy, insane rain!'' 
 
 `` And never is it anywhere that ca n't handle it.'' She turned around to face the plains behind us. `` Just look at our cottage,'' she said. `` We have n't had any trouble. It's just a little rain. The world will change because of it, but not too fast. We'll manage.'' 
 
 I mulled over her words, slowly. They bore the truth, yet perplexed me even more. It had n't stopped raining for three months, but I could not recall a single disastrous consequence. 
 
 `` So you're saying the rain is somehow adjusting itself?'' I asked with a skeptical squint. 
 
 `` Mm-hm,'' Sam hummed. 
 
 `` But how? Why?'' 
 
 `` I do n't know,'' she said, watching the lazy clouds rolling over the hills. `` I do n't understand it any more than the meteorologists.'' 
 
 She took another deliberate breath. `` But I like to think that it's Mother Earth. Crying for what we've done. Too loving to hurt us. But desperate to let us know.''
