Silent Drizzle

I didn’t hear a thing. I saw the puddles. A few drops leapt off the roof and into my hair.

I thought I saw dew on the grass. But it was a little after eight and the sun turned away in its blanket of cloud.

I tried sneaking across concrete and tarmac. Some leaps were inches short of splatter spread by falling feet. I could see the streaks of mud: mud streaked chic anyone?

For a moment the drizzle doused the heat.

For a moment, I was glad. The next moment I wished the drizzle was loud.

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