

Not near the house. Not near where I was going. Halfway, where both directions cost the same and neither one helps. I stood there working out the maths and got wetter while I did it.

Out of the whole shelter, one gap in the panel, and it lined itself up with the back of my neck. I moved twice. It found me both times. At that point it stops being weather and becomes a conversation.

Wet, I am a wet stick. Dry, I take up an armchair. Same animal. The difference is entirely air, and the air takes its time getting back in.
