Sunlight glistens off the shallow water, dancing rays scattering light every which-way. A pristine lake of silvery fallen rain, beckoning to be disturbed. I tap my shiny red boots against the puddle’s surface, sending ripples cascading in every direction. I wait for them to settle, giving the puddle a false sense of peace, and then I jump in.
   

A tsunami of water explodes against my boots, the sound of splashing resonating against the rain-soaked world. Droplets patter against my cheeks and open mouth, the muskiness of fallen rain on my tongue. Wiping my face with my raincoat-covered arm, I continue splashing.
   

Water sloshes up from the puddle and into my red rain boots, wetting my socks. My feet soon grow clammy and cold, but I do not mind. The puddle is a magical ocean, a land where I can be anything. I am a sea captain, forging for shore. I am the Loch Ness monster, wreaking havoc on innocent sailors. I am Moses, parting the Red Sea. In this puddle, I dance amongst the shower of droplets thrown up by my splashing, enjoying my own rain.