Standing in the rain. 

 I’m standing in the park under a tree. It’s raining. I’m getting wet, but not as wet as out there, in the open.

Little balls of hail break through, like seed pods. One hits me on the back of my neck, but it doesn’t hurt.

These are the things that I think about:

That I probably won’t go for my run tonight.

That I should have stopped 2 minutes earlier, before the park, where there is a pub.

That that man standing under his own tree probably thinks I’m texting or on Facebook.

That I frequently seem to write about this park and this time.

Time passes. I make a dash for the pub. If you’re gonna be wet, you may as well be happy.

(Def no run tonight)

Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Nat Newman - portrait

Nat Newman

Nat Newman is an award-winning writer of short stories, content, podcasts, feature articles, drunk text messages and, soon, a novella.


The Office of Dead Letters


latest posts

words | travel | life | beer

Sign up for the newsletter for your monthly dose of words, travel, life, beer.