A Rainy Day At Home

th7AIVEF4MVince sat and listened to the sounds of the house on a rainy day and stared out the window at the 
neighborhood. He held a steaming cup of tea and sipped contentedly.
The rain patted the roof softly. It struck the metal chimney as if an angel’s irregular beat of a cymbal; a light tinkle. Water gushed from the downspouts like a chorus of strings. The clock above the fireplace ticked a second by second steady beat as if tapping a snare drum.
He watched people soaked as they hurried to the bus stop. A car splashed a man checking his mail. Children drenched like dogs skipped home from school on the sidewalks making sure to spatter every puddle. The man across the street held his briefcase over his head to avoid getting wet as he runs to his house. A woman in heels ran across a yard only to lose it to the mud’s soggy grip.
“Rain was meant to hear,” Vince said. “Certainly not to be walking around in.”

Another sip of tea warmed his chest.