Date: 15/11/2022 Shift: 8:30 AM – 10:30 AM Q. No: 48

The worst days of any summer are the rainy ones. We spend all year looking forward to nice weather and long, hot days. All of winter, with its dreary grey days and bitter cold, we dream of those endless days at the beach, laying on the sand and soaking in the bright and burning sun. And then, summer comes, and it rains.
As a child, I would wake up to rainy summer days and come close to crying. It wasn’t fair. We suffered through months of school and miserable weather for those scant ten weeks of freedom and balmy weather. Any day that I could not spend at the beach or playing ball with my friends seemed like a punishment for something I didn’t even do. On those rainy summer days, I had nothing to do and could only sit inside, staring out at the rain like a Dickensian orphan. I was an only child, so there was no one else to play with.
My father worked from home, so I was not truly alone, but he could not actively play with me since he was technically at work. It was those days that I would resign myself to whatever was on television or any books that I could find lying around. I’d crawl through the day and pray each night that the rain would not be there the next day.