Walking down the sidewalk, thinking. Each raindrop fell to wet one more small patch of his bent form. The stress of his soul was evident with every heavy staggering step. He glanced down at the watery reflection of himself amidst the rippled traces of individuality. “What Am I?” He mumbled softly to himself in a voice that he hardly recognized as his own. The raindrops kept falling, and he broke from his momentary sanity to continue his journey toward that place where he had been told he should be. His reflection walked back toward the place he belonged.