July 1, 2021

Inside the breezeway five minutes after Target has closed we stand, milling around, watching the rain ––– deciding whether to make a run for it; or to hold back . . . and keep waiting. At some point the rain slows down, but it’s not clear how slow is slow enough. The rain’s no longer gushing from the sky and falling across Tenth Avenue like Niagara, but it’s not a gentle mist either. Then it happens all at once: one person steps out into the rain; without an umbrella ––– she holds her pink jacket above her head and starts running. Then a few moments later, a couple, wearing the same denims with navy sweaters and Jordans, runs out into the rain as well. Then the lights inside of Target turn off ––– it’s closing time; it’s ten minutes past closing time, but still, a few of us stand in the breezeway, waiting and watching: the rain. The rain . . . the rain.