Drip.
I sigh as I brush my damp hair out of my eyes.
Drip.
Another sigh.
Drip.
“Where’s that sound coming from?” My hand moves to my forehead again as I get up from my prone position.
A flash of light. The sound of rain pattering violently on tile.
“Ah.” I shuffle wearily to the window. “That’s where the drip came from.”
“About time,” my mom grumbles in ...
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