Rainy days consist of wearing pink and blue striped fuzzy socks from Target, and purple princess nightgowns. Mom is baking snickerdoodle cookies in the kitchen while feeding my baby brother Cheerios in his high chair. Sesame Street is on, and Elmo is singing about the sun.

Pepper purrs and kneads his paws into my pear shaped thigh, like a baker kneading dough. I scratch his black and white back, and give him a kiss on the head. Rainy days consist of the biggest and warmest hugs from dad on the green torn up couch. It's 10 pm, and grandma's kerosene glass lamp is flickering on and off, casting shadows on the wall. Dad starts singing and tickles me. Thunder shakes the house. I tuck my head in my dad's armpit, wrap my arms around him and squeeze him so tight, my own arms might fall off.

Rainy days consist of sitting in the back seat on the way back from grandma's house. My head hurts from playing Mario Kart on my pink Nintendo. I watch the rain trickle down the window, forming little streams here and there. My brother is asleep. There's a trail of drool seeping out the corner of his mouth. Ew. The sky is grey. I watch the lightning dance in the distance, tapping the tips of skyscrapers. I rest my head on the side of the car door, and watch the window washers bounce back and forth, back and forth.

Rainy days consist of watching ten episodes of the Office on Netflix. I'm wearing my dad's navy blue college sweatshirt, it smells like home. It's so big, I can roll my whole entire body up, and tuck myself into it. I have my very own perusal hand heater between my hands. I take a sip from my cat shaped cup. The creamy chocolate gooey liquid trickles down my throat, warming up my body instantly.

Rainy days consist of dancing in the kitchen in pajamas you have had on since last night, the smell of homemade chocolate chip cookies savors the air.

Rainy days consist of hugging your best friend under blankets so soft, you never want to let them go.