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April’s sky, with its pale hues of gold and black, was a scene waiting to be painted. It had the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the trees, illuminating the soft shadows of children playing in the quiet morning air.
The sound of rain clicked, a whisper from the silence of the morning. It was a quiet game of hide and seek, each of us adjusting our glasses as the water cascaded down our foreheads, washing away the dirtier than we had ever seen before.
Yet April’s world seemed to hold a secret—a promise that wasn’t fully clear until rain entered its garden. When it did, the sky will once again be filled with hues of gold and black, waiting for nothing but the arrival of the rainbow.
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