It’s pouring right now, and folks are standing in the coffee shop watching it. The thunder sounds like a car driving into a wall. The fruit stand where, earlier, I bought four lemons, a nectarine and a plum has a blue tarp across it now, soaked and sagging. The wind blows rain at faces, saturating pants and turning umbrellas inside out, hopelessly.
Inside, we are smug. We are here. Even if we didn’t know it was going to rain, because some of us never bother checking the weather, even if this visit to this particular cafe was unplanned, we are still dry, safe, and unscathed, if only for the time being.