Rainy days somehow blur the outlines of the world. The scent of cold asphalt hits your nose, and the penetrating, damp air clings to your skin, pasting today's unresolved failures onto it in a clammy way.

No matter how many times I replayed it in my head, my boss's cold stare and the pathetic sound of my own voice as I apologized profusely to the client didn't fade away; instead, they seemed to amplify heavily in the depths of my chest along with the sound of the rain.

On the way back from the station, the sound of raindrops tapping on the surface of my umbrella echoed like a rhythm scolding me for my own inadequacy. Amidst the rain that kept falling, blocking my view, the way home felt longer than usual, and the light of the streetlamps blurred weakly.