the pitter-patter of heavy raindrops rap continuously on the roof and windows of my car as i wait for work to begin. against the staccato, nonsensical tapping of what sounds like a room full of muted typewriters or stock tickers, a charlie hayden tune brings a fittingly sleepy, rainy-day charm to the wet afternoon. across the vacant parking spaces beside me, a large pool of dark water has accumulated, and i wonder what poor drivers will be forced to park over them, unable to exit their vehicles without stepping ankle-deep into water. quel dommage.
life is never fair, and perhaps it is a good thing for most of us that it is not.
: wilde.
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