The shower had passed leaving behind a steamy and uncomfortable humidity. The rain had drowned the clover that was growing under the tree and the rolly-polly bugs were busy unfolding and crawling around. Lunamia was at the window watching the raindrops race each other down the glass. Some drops were so stubborn they would not move, not even when she tapped the window. These were her favorites because they lingered on the glass long enough for her to name them. She would keep her eye on these drops because they would suddenly run down the glass, faster than the rest, so fast. She'd cheer them on, hoping they would make it to the bottom of the window and not collide with other drops and slow down or stray off to the side.
She spotted the puddle of water under the tree, ran to her room, slipped on her sandals and gathered her small, tin pots and cake pans, before running outside. Lunamia crouched near the tree. The puddle greeted her by flowing quickly towards her feet and became trapped between her feet and sandals. Her fingers sunk deep into the mud where they would squirm for awhile before drawing out small handfuls of loam mixed with bugs and clover to fill her pots with. She then picked the wet clover and carefully coated the bottom of her two cake pans with it. It was hard to keep the clover from sticking to her fingers.
She could feel her hair sticking to her neck and the water between her toes was now muddy but she wanted to finish. She took the clay from the other side of the tree. It was not as easy to gather and her finger nails began to ache as she scratched the earth, forcing the soil out. It began to sprinkle and thunder cracked in the distance before rolling above her. Lunamia became frightened and hopped up, her wet feet slipping back and forth in her sandals as she ran back inside. She stepped into the house leaving muddy water behind her as she walked towards the window. She wanted to continue the races.