where we're going, we don't need umbrellas

The rain has almost stopped now. On this unusually calm afternoon, the water seems to just hang in the air. More mist than fog, it restricts vision all the same. Through the haze, a man walks down a sidewalk. Dressed for the weather, not the calendar in his khaki trousers and navy blue jacket, closed below his collar. His faded Nike running shoes suggest that this is a walk of habit, not one determined by a specific destination or purpose. He must be a religious weather checker. Clutching a black umbrella, he was clearly prepared for the rain. The umbrella is no defense against the water simply suspended in mid-air, though. He has surrendered the protection, umbrella swinging closed at his side. His glasses are lightly covered in raindrops, his familiar walk reduced to smears of color, hazy shapes and the muffled watery noise of the world outside the park.