He stared at his reflection in the puddle that was beginning to form. He couldn’t really make out his features. He was just a shadowy outline. But that was ok. He didn’t really want to see his face. And neither was he thinking of his physical form. Instead, he was reflecting on what he would become.
As the rain fell around him, giving life to those few things that needed it, he was contemplating her death. Her beautiful, wonderful demise that would leave him free. Free to be what he had always wanted to be. And she would understand at the end. Oh yes, she would!
Starting, as if from a nightmare, he turned to go. He stopped, as if someone had called his name. He turned back to the growing puddle. This time, instead of an indistinct blob, he saw his true form. And he smiled.