Shelter

The rain lets up just long enough for us to make it to the restaurant, chasing us indoors with an ill-tempered grumble of thunder before releasing another deluge.

The busser stops by the table to refill our glasses and, making small talk, comments on the downpour, and we vehemently agree that it is really coming down.

I think he's surprised at the intensity of our response, pleasantly so. He smiles, says something about hail falling in Brazil, I think, as another couple comes inside, shaking water off their umbrellas and hunched as if the sky is falling specifically on them.