A spot of oil winks at me from a puddle, iridescent against the dark asphalt. I roll over and look up to the sky, and feel the raindrops on my face slowly increase in strength. Taking my cues from them, I stand up, wincing. Everything hurts. My left eye is already swollen to the point of limiting my vision, and I’m pretty sure I have at least three bruised ribs. The rain is falling even harder now, but it’s refreshingly cool against my bruised body. I close my other eye and lift my face to the sky, allowing the rain to rinse away the blood. A low rumbling in the distance reminds me of where I am. I look to my right and see him, still lying where he fell. I smile despite my bloody lip, then turn and walk away gingerly.
It’s a wonderful day for a storm.