Three-Day Weekend

He looks. He notices how beautiful the rain is making everything. He listens. He wonders why the noise is so pretty. He sits. He is comfortably cold.

He notices through closed eyes it is getting brighter. He sees the sun. He hears doors open and close as people exit them. He sees children in boots and shorts jumping in puddles. He reminisces. He watches with sadness as the concrete goes dry. He observes that the drier the concrete, the louder the world. He hears the conversations of his neighbors as they invade where he has spent his morning. He asks himself if they wish they would’ve got their work done on Saturday so that they could enjoy the rain today. He thinks it makes them antsy because it is stalling their day. He has nowhere to be. He enjoys rain. He doesn’t know if that makes him happier than they are. He wonders if it makes him sadder. He hears the motor of a lawn trimmer as it slits the air with violent vulgarity. He thinks of ‘V’ words. He wants them (the people and their sonance, not ‘V’ words) to go away, and selfishly wishes for rain.

He sees it grow dark again. He smiles as doors open and close as people enter them. He stops hearing the offensive noises of the afternoon. He is able to listen again. He thinks he knows why it’s so pretty. He wonders what he would choose given one wish. He decides on a girl. He doesn’t know which one, cause there are a few. He falls asleep wishing he knew.