Rain

It pours, far too early for me to get where I’m going.

Here it is, an uninvited interlude. The umbrella racks are out, sticker prices daunting.

Not for me. I prefer instead to wait, to gather at the corner, under the shelter, expectant. As if that would do anything. My feet are wet. The unremarkable woman next to me lights a cigarette. Comrades in solitude. Both our feet are wet. A woman sprints in the rain and loses her shoe. We see it both from the corner.

It’s a quiet finitude. It is petty to be afraid of water. It’s petty to be afraid to ask. Looking forlorn at those who came prepared. Look how funny and tragic and small it all is.