It's raining. You raise the blinds and sit on the edge of the table without a shirt on. Outside, there's people in cars, there's people in their apartments, sitting around a table, eating, drinking, talking, laughing, some of them might even be looking outside the window, at you, at the rain. You wonder how many of these people are thinking about death, or dying. You're thinking, none of them are, because it's raining. People sleep or do laundry when it rains. No one contemplates life or their mortality, no one really wants to do that anyway, especially when it's raining.

There are two things the rain is good for: cleaning, and the smell afterwards. When you were a kid, you used to make paper boats to float in rain puddles, but you never went outside. You just made the boats and they sat on the table like midget paper hats. The rain would be long gone when you finally made it outside, but you'd stand there, linger a little bit, because the smell is not just an aural presence. It's something physical too, like someone smoothing back your hair.

This is something you've always wanted to do, ever since you read it in a book: run outside when it's pouring and scream "Whee!" Maybe you're thinking of doing it now, but you've always been afraid of being struck by lightning. Or you wish someone would run outside with you, and then you'd collapse onto a patch of grass and turn your faces upwards to the sky. Maybe you'd giggle a little bit, maybe you're drunk. Maybe that person's been thinking of doing this too, but they'd been afraid of looking like a fool.

It's stopped raining. Somehow, you can't help but feel cheated. It will always rain again, but when else are you going to feel like running around in it? Maybe it'll rain when you're sitting on the bus two days from now, but you're going to be thinking to yourself, "Damn it, I should've brought an umbrella."