HomeIt's pouring outside and the sky is pitch black, and it's only 2 in the afternoon. The streets are washed clean by biblical flood waters and the stifling scent of mold, wet cement and pollen hangs in the air, threatening to suffocate all those caught in the downpour. I wait in the vestibule of my building with 10 others, with our stomachs growling in unison, complaining about not having been forewarned by the morning news man. But the rain never lets up.
I inch my way to the front of the crowd, announcing proudy that I had a dusty umbrella just sitting in my office for a (haha) rainy day. Envious eyes follow me as I push open the door and walk through a virtual wall of water.
I linger in front for just a second, to allow myself to be seen with such a desirable device, when I am suddenly compelled to do something spiteful. I reach up and release the latch of my open umbrella. Rivers stream off the waterproof fabric and embed themselves in my hair. I nearly shriek from the shock of the cold as it travels under my collar and down my spine.
My dryer comrades-in-waiting, their eyes and mouths open wide, look at each other in utter consternation. "What the hell is she doing?" I see them mouth.
I flip my soggy hair back, creating an arc of water over my back, and smile at them. Though I can hardly see them now through the blanket of rain, I can feel their anticipation rise. An anonymous hand pushes the door open and 10 children, dressed in adult suits and skirts, laugh in unision and marvel at the offering the dark, once-imposing sky has made them. We skip away merrily as our giggles echo off the slick walls of our former protector and prison.