Wet

Today, I stepped out in to the rain. Thinking of my umbrella sitting in my bag, I left it there. Right here, right now, its the only thing I have total control of. I could wait at the school until the rain subsides. I could call for a lift. I could just take out my umbrella, but the rain gets harder and I want to get absolutely soaking wet. My chosen path takes me through the deepest puddles and on to the parts of the pavement that are least sheltered by trees. With my music clicking in my ear, I walk under the edge of the bus stop's roof and a torrent of water cascades down my hair. I can feel the drips attacking my scalp, it feels almost as if I have no hair, and I wander what its like to be bald in the rain. The droplets dribble down my face, past the corners of my eyes so that they feel like tears, and down to gather at the tip of my nose. I fight the urge to move my saturated fringe away from my eyes, peering at a motionless van that is waiting at a green light. Realising that the reason for the delay in the driver's journey is because he is peering back at me, I take my time to look upwards in to the oncoming rain as I dawdle through the sodden leaves. By the end of my walk, I am so wet that the only reason I know that its raining are the ever expanding circles in the puddles.

I'm still dripping.