Wet

My first stop this morning is the dry cleaners. Its starts to rain just as I exit the building and by the time I get there I am completely soaked. For a moment, I entertain the notion of just taking off my shirt and adding it to the pile I've dumped on the counter, but better judgment quickly settles in and I leave fully clothed.

I need to stop back at my building and find the super to let him know the fire department was over last night and that the stove, allegedly leaking carbon monoxide, needs to be replaced. I don't find him, but I do head back upstairs to grab an umbrella. An older gentleman, seeing me in the elevator asks - not ironically, sarcastically, or jokingly - if I happen to know whether it's still raining or not.

Back in my apartment I don't even bother to change out of my clothes, because I am rushing to get to a meeting on time. I head back downstairs, to the station, and on to the platform. It's hot and muggy as usual, and I do not think I will be dry by the time I get to the office.

Sitting on a bench waiting for the train is a young woman in a short gray dress, adorned with flower-patterned lace along the bottom. It makes me jealous that I must wear business clothes on such a hot day. There is a birthmark on her right ear.

On the train there are no seats and it's too tight and crowded to even take out my Sudoku book. Luckily, I have a spot next to the door, so at least I have something to lean on. I look out the glass windows as the train pulls away and then look down at my wet clothes, and I remember an email about the meeting I'm rushing to. It was postponed.