it's raining again
It's raining tonight. Maybe that's it.
He hated the rain. I think it reminded him of where he spent his youngest years, years that were nothing short of torturous, really, so it was understandable that he didn't want any reminders of them, even if the reminder was something as innocent as rain.
It rained the day we found out he would die sooner than anybody should.
It rained the day his mother sliced his arm open and impaled his hand with a pair of gardening shears.
He didn't like the rain. It was kind of hard to blame him.