I was thinking about the drunk, considering the idiot in the truck, and pulling out of the parking lot to seek lunch. I pondered correspondence and absently pressed the winshield-washer to clear the dust and pollen; the past couple of days had been clear and very dry, raising the particles that float about. Today was dry, warm, overcast high clouds.
I entertained my thoughts, watched the water sweep from the windshield, a few drops splashing over the edge of the wiper, sweeping away, fewer drops…sweep away … more drops.
It began to rain.
All right. I am not going to read anything into this. I’m not. But I want to talk with whoever is writing my script.
Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry