the storm will begin in twenty minutes and seventeen seconds.
i can make it, murchison thought, i can do it.
i can get to the center in fifteen minutes easy.
he set out, swinging his short but muscular arms confidently.
after eight minutes, the rain suddenly began to fall heavily.
murchison looked around desperately for a cab or a bus.
he was quickly soaked like laundry in a washing machine.
the people at the center would have a good laugh.
he knew their type - always ready with a heartless smile.
along with their rolling eyeballs and obviously fake sympathetic noises.
it was the story of his life, over and over.
the rain fell harder, almost knocking hin off his feet.
the street was now completely empty of people or vehicles.
just murchison and the rain and wind and falling darkness.
why, he wondered, was life so awful and so meaningless?
why did his fellow humans consider him ridiculous and pathetic?
< p>
his phone came back on, interrupting his despairing interior monologue.
the storm will continue for anther twenty-two minutes before ending.
how do i know this forecast will be any better?
i might as well just give up and go home.
home to the loneliest room in the whole wide world.
a long black town car appeared in his peripheral vision.
it pulled up beside him and the window rolled down.
the young woman behind the wheel had a cheerleader smile.
hello, bob, my name is cambridge, i’m from the center.
we thought you might like a ride in this weather.
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