Raining Cats and Dogs

Leaning against a window, the heat inside the bus creates a slightly humid, but welcome feeling as his soaked clothes slowly dry, along with those of the other passengers. The steamy glass, already hard to see through, reveals almost nothing of the streets outside. A blur of water cascades down the outside, and all he hears is the rumble of the engine, and the swish of tires on wet pavement. Fountains of white obscure the world outside the bus every few minutes, and he feels as though the world has ended, but nobody remembered to tell him. Street lights, glimmering orange in the dark, could be stars exploding and burning the atmosphere, for all he knows. He huddles closer, his damp clothes small comfort. And soon, the cocoon taking him onwards will be left, it’s small sanctuary replaced once more by the wind, and the water, and the cold.