She was wearing a bright, Harlequin-like fancy dress. A red Venetian mask.
The rain washed away the clothes like gouache paint. Colours blended and started to stream down, uncovering her body gradually. The mask lost its form, flew down and mixed with other shades in a red-green stream.
Asphalt was painted in multicoloured puddle-stains.
She stood naked in the middle of the street and turned her face up to the rain.
– I am free, – she said delightedly, and another one drop shattered at her cheek.
– You are free! – people wearing masks shouted wildly and aggressively and pointed at her all of a sudden. They tried to shame her. Some of them passed by, the others gathered around.
It did not matter for her. Earlier it did. But now all those people did not arouse any feelings. Suddenly she became true to herself. She was not afraid, because there are no colour rains in the world.
And people dispersed in a while; they did not like monochrome indifference.
(Translate by Marina G)