Up ahead, the sky is depressingly dark. The dull metal-grey forms droop with heaviness that makes people begin to hurry. I forgot to bring my umbrella.
I emerge from a shop and the air is humid. The combination of the stifling dampness and the expansive clouds makes me think, rain, perhaps a thunderstorm.
I press on through the street. The glass window of the shop where I turn the corner catches my reflection – I see a frowning face and disproportionate limbs inelegantly speeding past. I enter the path that connects the main street onto mine and nearly crash into a man who glances at me disapprovingly.
Frustrated, I look up again and dare the heavens to pour its waters on me. I fumble with my pocket to get the keys out and hastily check the post to see if anything has arrived. Only small advertising cards. Plus, it’s a Sunday.
I hate the stairs. My legs strain as they climb the three steep flights of stairs that are littered with dead wasps.
I shut the door and drop my bags. I allow myself a moment to breathe.
Then, I hear it.
The patter of rain hitting the windows one by one in a continuous rhythm. I look out and see the droplets of water clinging to the surface outside the glass.
I couldn’t help but smile.