The Place of Petrichor

My Happy Place

To this day, I can’t explain it… It’s something intoxicating, almost chemical. The smell and sound of rain through an open window, sipping on a steaming mug of coffee. Other writers can probably attest to this. Some of the best and worst thoughts come as if lead by the rain. I don’t want to say any more for fear of desecrating the sanctity of it all.

Simply: The raindrops address the page where my heart was meant to lay.

3 thoughts on “The Place of Petrichor

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