The rain stopped just as I was about to give up

It was one of those Friday evenings where the sky felt like it had a grudge. I’d been standing under the bus stop awning for ten minutes, watching the puddles grow and shrink with each new downpour. Then, right when I’d decided to just sprint through it, the rain just… stopped. Not slowly, not easing off — it vanished. Like someone flipped a switch. I stood there, soaked at the edges but dry in the middle, wondering if that’s what peace feels like. Maybe it’s not grand things. Maybe it’s just the moment between storm and stillness.