It was a mistake to have left the windows open for the night, and I was only paying the price the next morning. When I opened my eyes everything felt moist; the clouds were charging in through the window and the temperature had dropped to a significant low. Sohra, as I realized, can be dramatic in the morning during monsoons.
Throwing off the comforter, as I got off the bed, the chillness of the floor froze my bare feet—unendurable! The cloudy mist was bitter enough to pierce through my bare skin, and make me quiver.
Putting on some warm clothing, I ventured out to greet the spell binding landscape. The clouds had cloaked the town in its magnificent spread—clouds heavy with rain they were, ready to unleash their torrential showers upon the doleful houses.
With the misty droplets rushing in through my nostrils and reaching my lungs I was literally breathing the cloud.