Rain. Lightening. A glimpse of his foot in an old shoe trekking a familiar road. Reminds him of the old oversized overalls he wore, and his affinity to antiquity which the rain seemed determined to wash away.
Flash of lightning. Reveals an approaching shadow that arrives and greets. No responds. This was no time for pleasantries. The shadow hurries off.
Three super-bright flashes in a row, almost blinding him. The photographer up there must be on weed.
Flash. A glimpse of two lovers in a dark alley, umbrella overhead, repelling rain and observers’ inquisitiveness.
His companion stood a bent leg in his hands and spread herself over his head, shielding him from the cold pepper sprayed from the skies as he hurried home.
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