Under Eaves

It rained hard in Duluth on Sunday afternoon. My friend, Josh, and I huddled together under the overhang of a building on Superior Street. Still in our suit coats from Josh's concert and the subsequent after-parties the night before, we did our best to stay dry as water flooded the street.

"I keep thinking about that samurai proverb about running through the rainstorm," Josh said.

I laughed. "So do I."

"I'd make a run for it, but I don't want to get these shoes wet."

"I hear you." I showed him the jacket I had turned inside out. "This jacket is suede."

I pointed to a small geyser gushing from a manhole cover. A minute passed.

"Well," Josh said, "if I had to be stuck under eaves in a rainstorm with somebody, I'm glad it's you."