Droplets of rain began to serenade the windshield. At first they poured one by one, two by two, three by three, but then they crescendoed into a symphonic onslaught—seven, eight, thirteen, twenty-four, thirty-two, seventy-five, one hundred twenty droplets of rain played in unison. The clattering requiem slowed his heart. He rolled down the window to become part of the orchestra. The rain collected and flowed down the track marks on his arm like a river.

Amidst the commotion he noticed the grey clouds hugged up against the black backdrop of the sky. Is this how colorblind people saw the sky? I don’t know, he whispered.

The cold winter air singed his nose hairs. He tried to keep his eyes open while he sneezed, but to no avail. They shuttered quickly, like the windshield wipers on the cars that sped besides him. It was the third time the light had turned green. And each time it turned red, he was letdown.