She traced her fingertips down the cold hard glass, the rain dripping down her window.
They were falling slowly,
leaving tiny water trails behind them.
She thought of how the water drops were like people and their memories, an identity of who they were.
She thought of how they would always leave little memories every where, and a piece of them somewhere.
And when they finally reach the end and fall, those little water trails will still remain,
Like how memories of them and who they were will still remain, inside the minds of whom they love.