When I get to the bottom of the stairs with the doge for her evening walk, I notice the puddles in the street reflecting the streetlights, the reflections breaking into shuddering ripples.
It's raining, and neither the dog nor I thought to bring an umbrella.
I shrug, clip the dog on her leash, and walk out into the lovely night air, enjoying the patter of rain on my relatively newly bald head, the scent of rain, the cool breeze.
Several minutes later, under the same tree we've been under for what seems like a half-hour, my head and face streaming with water, my shirt mildly soaked, the dog still indecisive about exactly where she'd like to pee, I'm less enamored of the romance of the rain, and I strongly suggest to the dog we should think about wrapping things up.
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