After years of work and care, the grain became a scotch which was bottled by a whiskey company, making millions of dollars selling a ticket to nowhere for lonely fools.
As chance will it, the raindrop who beheld a young student 30 years ago, became part of the last drink this particular student raised to greed his lips.
He never learned to fight the agonising pain, which origin he couldn't explain.
He kept starring at the rain and the night. He stared at the young lovers and the lonely souls.
He stared into the eyes of people he met, but he never met someone who could reach beyond his.
He flunked his life, of course. The idiot was a poet more than a student (And he wasn't much of a poet neither). Over time he learned that some people just aren't meant to be happy. Hell, some people aren't even meant to be content.
His life became a story of bottles and he would be remembered for years as:
"The intelligent, creative man who threw it all away without reason"
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