Raindrops gently tapped at his window, as if requesting an audience with the honorable George McGraves. Of course George McGraves was only an intern, and he was stuck in the records room collating several reports he didn't understand, but the raindrops didn't know that. Hands littered with papercuts and stinging with mildly annoying pain, George walked towards the window to oblige the raindrops. Most people love sunny spring days, but George, he loved the rain. He loved the pitter-patter of the raindrops against the window, but, even better, he loved the feeling of the tiny raindrops splashing on his head and his shoulders, cascading down his body. But there was something ominous about today's rain, George could tell. It was almost like the rain was talking to him, warning him, as if the rain liked George too.