Afternoon 3. The same place, on the slick, terrazo walkway of the Courthouse. Two hours later. Raindrops falling upward. She waited. This, too, the triumph of hope over experience, absence over presence. There is justice in rain. But not much. If he did not come she would be able to remember that doing the same thing again is likely to bring the same results it did before. She knew that vapor rose over the western ocean and floated in the air. She knew the chaos formed into clouds. She knew the clouds rose over the edge of land, cooling in the upward movement. She knew that the water condensed into droplets. That the droplets fell when they were too heavy of heart to stay aloft. But none of this changed the awe and surprise when the rain fell for forty days. He came down the walkway. His wet hand on her cheek startled her.

Rain Frames