The gorgeous notes of the pitter patter of the rain landed on the aqua plastic shelter I am under and above I can see the clouds which are gray and unmoving and predictable but the drops from the sky keep the view sparkling so the gray turns silver and every corner and crack is filled with both wetness and sounds coming from the oldest songs playing on the stereo it feels like I am in a foreign country and coming from the sweet scream of the young boy it feels like I am his playmate and we can both play as spies hiding behind postlamps in the pouring afternoon and coming from the tires of vehicles heading in opposite directions then all these sounds sounds sounds tone down for a minute yet the lightning persists and for a while it is not that scary especially when I saw the sign saying, “when Van met Sally”.