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Night rain did not stop, as if the night itself had been waiting for this.
The rain fell in sheets that grew thicker and thicker, and the clouds that had lifted earlier in the evening had returned, a gray bank of them that covered the moon and made it look like a broken mirror. It was as if they were trying to keep the light out.
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Night rain did not stop, as if it were too late to stop. I could see the rain hitting the ground, making small puddles. The rain fell as a soft, gentle patter.
At first, I thought I was dreaming. Then, the sound of the rain grew louder. A storm was coming.
It is still raining outside. You could hear it from the room. It is raining so hard, I can hardly see.