Once we were soaked on that jog home, what was there to do but jump in the puddles? Once you are so very wet, surely it's time to have a little fun. So we jumped right in with both feet, watching the newly released spheres of muddy water fly. Each of them was an airborne gift and we could hear the happiness inside one another without saying a word. Instead we whooped and giggled at our own brilliant silliness. The rain kept on coming, the earth utterly soaked in its nutrient marinade, the trees taking a long drink now the rains have come.
When I hit the sidewalk I decide it’s time to jog. I almost never run. My slow gate is almost soundless as my runners kiss the concrete and the warmth of the exercise will do me good. The iron-railings of the park, all but invisible in the inkiness, are soon behind me and the tall concrete buildings of the Eastside loom large.
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by daisy.
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