I just took a stroll in the rain. It's always cold when it rains back in Sacramento, so I jump at any chance to enjoy a summer drizzle. I love the erratic thrum of drops hitting the pavement, the way you can see waves of water in the air when there's a shift in the wind. I wandered along the sidewalk, breathing deeply, trying to catch the faint hints of wet pine on the breeze. Rich cinnamon incense wafted from an open window as I passed. I stretched out my hand to catch the raindrops on my fingertips, but they only teased me faintly. That's the thing about raindrops: they refuse to be caught.
As I meandered along, a steady stream of bubbles raced by me in the gutter. You know you're taking you're time when the gutter-bubbles are outpacing you. And you know you're at peace when you notice that sort of thing.
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