Stand in the rain

Do you know how hard it is to enjoy the rain when even the tiniest drop of water can destroy you?
Yet here I was with my nose pressed against the cool window, staring out at the devastatingly beautiful storm.
As the embodiment of the first spark of fire, it was vital to the others of my kind that I never come in contact with water. For if I died, then so would all of the other embodiments of fire.
Yet I couldn't seem to keep away from storms. I loved the rain. The sight, smell, and sound of it called to me like a moth to the flame.
Often, I wondered what it would be like to stand in the rain.
But I had a duty to fulfill, and could not allow myself to be draw toward that watery flame.
The other embodiments of fire did not share my fascination for the storm. I could hear them in the background, grumbling about the weather and the delays that it caused.
Arms crossed on the windowsill, I released a sigh and lowed my head onto them. Closing my eyes, I listened to the sweet pitter-patter outside.
Perhaps in my dreams, I would be able to stand in the rain.