The rain hit the asphalt, violent but bloodless. The rain hit the asphalt and his jacket, bouncing off and landing on the asphalt. Arden took a deep breath of the heavy air, the smell of rain palpable. His lack of umbrella didn't bother him. He enjoyed watching the restless rain try to penetrate his weatherproof jacket. Arden had always obsessed over these moments, standing in the street alone on a deep autumn night. He could ponder the existence of the barren trees, the tired grass, the firm asphalt beneath his feet, and the rain. The rain that had a simple but vital task. The rain that kept every other thing on earth from shriveling up and perishing, but wasn't alive itself. The unforgiving torrential rain, the massive body of water, the quietly singing creek. Arden thought of everything rain did for life, and the one it extinguished, that cold winter night at Blackstone lake.
