Almost 8 pm. That's all I know of the time. Because 8pm is my deadline, and I must reach home before that.
It's raining. The streetlights are all blurry and rainbowy again, the way rain always makes them. I see a chain of those little decorative electric lights. Or tuni bulbs. ‘Tuni’ is a funny name. Leaves absolutely no room for dignity or grandeur. Kind of endearing though, if you think about it...
Who put these lights up now? A pujo enthusiast in a fit of impatience? Maybe they’re in honour of the Salt Lake metro, strung along the construction zone as they are. That’s a FIVE years-early celebration. All these enthusiasts. Making the world a brighter place.
Stumble. Splash. And the heel of my shoe is dripping with slush. Damn 'em puddles. Or 'poodles', as the French teacher in our university calls them. I want a dog. Not a poodle though.
Don't get distracted. Look left, Look right, Cross the road. There comes a car, with a neon ring of light at its two ends. Rings that grow larger and disperse with the air as they approach my raindrop-lined eyelashes.
The other side.
Too late, car, you couldn't run me over!
The wind rises, it tugs at my umbrella with impetuous force, and I can feel the pull all the way down to the tips of my toes. I'm Mary Poppins! Creepy-crawlies of the world, beware! Before you get to me, I will rise with the wind, holding on to my Big Black Umbrella and float away.
I like black umbrellas, don't you? They're classy, in a very British way. Hang on. British not equal to classy. Am I a victim of the infamous colonial hangover? English student too. Oh dear.
But right now, potential personality problems don't interest me. They don't interest anyone else either. Did I say I'm 'walking down the road alone at almost 8pm?'
Well, it was almost 8pm when I started out but it's past 8 pm now. And I’m not really alone, I wasn’t all this while. There are people evrywhere. People, and cars. And autos and ricksaws. Drenched bedraggled crows and drenched disgruntled dogs.
But we're all in our own little bubbles of darkness and storm, with rainsongs rushing through our head and rainwind rushing through our legs. Some, like me, walk under our umbrella-worlds. Others are getting too wet to notice anything.
I'll deal with the logic once I get home. That's a different world altogether.