We manage to make it to the greemarket at Grand Army Plaza when it starts to pour. The sky opens up, and we run, making it to an awning, still soaked and laughing, as the gutters fill with brown, soupy water.
A little boy and his father are poised at the edge of the awning, bouncing in anticipation of making another run for it.
"It's only a hundred steps to home," the father says, and the little boy replies, "Let's go!"
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