I heard a wave of rain come, with big plops of water beating on the roof near my window. I went downstairs and through the front door. Up and down the street, no light seemed to be coming from any of the houses. The rain fell unseen, with drops ricocheting up on my shins from the porch steps.
I stuck a hand out and, taking my glasses off, wiped the rain over my face. It wasn’t quite cool, but sweet after the oppressive day. The darkness was filled with the soft sound and the sky was lighter above my head.
As the sound moved away, the air barely moved and the odor of moistened earth came up to meet me in the dark. Long-summer tales of young boys and Indiana towns came with it and I filled up on the fine, wet smell before going back into the dark cooling house.
