Rain.

It was about over. the heavy torrents became a gentle drizzle--still cold, still wet, still rain. Only it wasn't audible over the radio anymore. I stared at the distorted lights through the raindrops both on the window and on my eyeglasses. I realized after ten minutes or so that I had been hunched over, as though trying to get up from the seat. I straightened up then leaned back into the seat.

Despite the radio it was silent. Awkwardly so. We were both lost in thought, I suppose. Though I don't think I was actually thinking about anything in particular. I stared at the ground as we approached a red light. The three lamps cast their glow onto the wet road. Three fiery rods impaling the asphalt. The left-turn light became green. Two thin cylinders of neon-like blue-green next to the three of fire. And the green-blue overtook them as stop was over and go began.

He tapped the steering wheel not quite on beat to the music. Off by nearly a full second. I tried desperately to turn my attention back to the fires in the road, but it was futile. I couldn't remember if I said hello. Maybe I just got in the car and he drove away. Maybe it didn't matter.

The streets close to home weren't nearly as flooded as they were when we left two hours before. Upside down reflections of street signs in the gargantuan puddles. Odd to see in the night. Everything is different at nighttime. That mystery surrounding our inability to see properly.

"Classical Gas." They always play songs on the radio I want to hear just as we get to where we're going. Never fails.