It's raining

 Hi. I said I wouldn't post, but I've changed the settings. Commenting should be easier now, so please do. The guest blogger is coming, but she's still working on her post. She's really cool, although I've never really met her in person. This post was my attempt to make you cry, or at least feel sad. Did it work? Either way, you read this one wrong I think.

   The old man knew that his time was a time gone by. He had grown old, and the world had moved on without him. He had fought for what he thought was right. He had fought for freedom and the people he saw had already forgotten. They lived their lives and often wasted their lives without remembering the cost. 

    As the rain poured down outside the large house he couldn't bring himself to sell, the tired veteran climbed slowly up the steep stairs. He didn't stop, ignoring the pain from ancient wounds until he reached the top of the staircase. He winced once, limping to the bathroom. With shaking hands he downed pills for memory, for strong bones, for pain, and prepared himself for bed. 

     "He didn't go in pain."

     "He'll never be forgotten."

     "At least he's with Evelyn now."

     "I'm sorry."