MINUTE BY MINUTE
10.53
I notice a
group of women brandishing umbrellas as they struggle through the rain. It’s
the kind of rain that gets you wet. One woman resembles a wayward duck that I
saw only moments before as she waddles very convincingly away from the group to
brave the oncoming downpour. She fails. The umbrella wins.
11.07
I’m trying to enjoy
the smell of rain. That raw aroma of wet tarmac that only ever smells once the
rain covers it. But I can’t. I have a cold and the only thing that my nose will
let me enjoy is a very faint smell of bacon worming its way out of a less than
qualified cooks kitchen. It’s burnt. So instead, I distract myself from the
temptation of unsatisfying breakfast food by watching a scantily clad young
woman walk cautiously and carefully through a not quite concealed enough
pathway. She was trying her best to stay hidden but last night’s shoes gave her
away. She hurried off as best as her attire would let her. Miserably.
11.16
The weather still
mirrors how my drivelling nose is making me feel, dull. I can’t seem to find
anywhere dry to sit that isn’t already crowded with people avoiding the
downpour. I can only imagine myself as a sardine squashed inconveniently into a
can when I pass the scene. Apparently a rather tall young man wearing a
neglected woollen hat has the same thought because he turns on his heels
quickly and exits the building. It’s much more peaceful outside. The rain can’t
shout and the clouds can’t chatter loudly like this contestant hum that’s
beginning to hurt my ears. I think I’ll take my chance with the drizzle and
enjoy the silence.
Amie Lewis
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