Rain comes again

It felt a moment of peace. The foggy rain, blocking its vision to the horizon, was its favorite view.

Why?

Why would this scene of limited vision and haziness calm it so?

My guess is that it felt less threatened. There was less to see, less to process, less to look up to, and less to hear.

Just the pitter-patter of the smallest droplets, and buildings fading into the fog.

To it, scary were the infinite possibilities, and this vision felt the opposite.
It forced the thing to accept what it could see and feel instead of imagining what was beyond.

And the doll didn’t jitter as much in such moments. The doll’s legs didn’t bounce, the doll’s mind didn’t wander. The doll simply looked out the window.

And it embraced the lull as if it yearned for it more than the world of possibilities it was forced into.

And it gave to the fog a thankful prayer.

And it stared.