There is a specific kind of rain that only falls when you are eighteen.
But at 18, the rain is a blank page. You haven't made your big mistakes yet. You haven't broken anyone's heart (or had yours truly broken). You are standing at the edge of the map, and the cartographer has written: Here there be dragons. Rain 18
Why was I laughing? Because for the first time in months, I wasn't thinking about SAT scores, rejection letters, or the crushing weight of "potential." I was just there . Wet. Cold. Alive. If Rain 18 had a playlist, it would be insufferably pretentious. It would have The Smiths on it, and maybe some Bon Iver. But in reality, the soundtrack of that night was a broken car stereo and the percussion of water on asphalt. There is a specific kind of rain that