Every storm brings with it hope, that somehow by morning everything will be made clean again and even the most troubling stains will have disapeared; like the doubts over his innocence; or the consequence of his mistake; like the scars of his betrayal; or the memory of his kiss. So we wait for the storm to pass, hoping for the best; even though we know in our hearts, some stains are so indelible, nothing can wash them away.