Good Creative Writing On My Unreal World

On Sunday, the rain will arrive when my window will change to light blue. I was already hearing the sound in the morning. Yes, it is raining outside. I like to dress formally: a white shirt with a black skirt. Evidently, both are not waterproof material. But I don’t worry about getting wet. Because as soon as I get outside, sensors on my classy clothes detect the presence of moisture and the rain directly above them pauses midstream before they can ever touch them.
A lot of people run so fast, always seemingly in a hurry in the morning. I am not. I like to take the train and enjoy the view from the window. While observing, I see a girl with a cream color coat holding a notebook and a voice recorder. I assume she is a journalist. Whatever she is, she is running so fast just to catch the train I am already on that she almost falls down. She makes it and suddenly, she is on the train looking for a seat. She sits next to me. I smile at her and go right back to looking outside of the window. Not that the rain has stopped, the city looks clear and fresh. A lot of plants begin to perk up as the sun shows up through the clouds. The buildings, all decked out in their transparent materials, begin to collect as much sunlight as they can. When the rain stops, all the building windows revert back to more normal colors.
This is when I notice someone is trying to speak to me. Oh, it is her. She asks me what station will come nearest to the Civic Center. Coincidentally, I will be going there too, I reply. We start talking to each other. It seems I guessed right: She is a journalist - and one with a sad childhood at that. She lost both her father and brother at a young age and she keeps trying to figure out why. It makes it so those bad memories follow her always. We get off the train and find ourselves walking out the train station together, still quite a distance away from the Civic Center. We decide we will take one of those small float taxis to save time.