mlle. h. bean

I was waiting for the bus somewhere in Spruce Grove, and it was pouring rain. It had been pouring rain all day, just gushing and pissing down past the Shakespeare's windows, all day long as I rushed around the small pie shop getting angrier and angrier, at something not quite known. Anyway. The shop got better just as I left, and then I cleaned the school, and then I was waiting for the bus to take me home when I saw them. A little way up the road a couple was walking together, each with thier own umbrella. I looked up to see the man holding the woman's umbrella over her as she bent to tie her shoe, and it took her a few minutes. Beside me a tea-colored puddle was silently exploding, all over with the miniature ellipses of raindrops. When they walked by me we smiled and exchanged comments about the rain. A few minutes later the bus came and took me, my wet bookbag, and my rain-kissed face back home to Emerald.