She reached for the pot to get herself a drink. The sky was cloudy as she looked out of the aperture beside the pot.
As she looked at the sky, she saw a pigeon fly his way to the rear of the aperture and settling itself on a stony patch. It kept moving restlessly like parading, waiting for someone or something to happen. As she watched it for a minute, nothing changed except the colour of the sky. From cloudy blue it changed to a dark and shady grey, pointing to the arrival of a storm. Her shabby clothes were the only source of warmth in the dingy cave, with the speeding squall. She felt the chills when the first gush of cold air hit her. She once again looked out to see the pigeon. The pigeon was still tramping when another pigeon flew by its side and they both chatted for a while and then they relaxed. A shiver passed down her spine when she saw what the pigeon was waiting for. Memories flashed back into her mind to remind her, how her parents had died for her survival last monsoon. If only she wouldn't have gone wandering out in the woods with the storm coming. The haunting realisation brought back the feeling of loneness and depression. She was too young to have lost so much and so early.
A rustle at the outside brought her back to life. She turned her attention there to find her only source of happiness wagging its tail. She took her dog outside and sat down at the ledge facing the storm opening to a beautifully dangerous valley clouded with water balloons ready to burst. She looked over to the mesmerising waterfall and other people around it, at the opposite side. The water she wanted to taste and savour, which took her outside that night and put an end to her happiness. She looked at her confidant and sighed as the first drop of the rain fell down from her eye.