I'm not having a communal chat with the vapers either, about how awful everything is or how terribly unfair our bosses are; I'm on my own, waiting for a thunderstorm to pass.
It came out of nowhere. The wind kicked up, the sky grew black, some people on the other side of the lake started running for some reason, and then I was suddenly getting drenched.
I sprinted. The sky erupted with light, and almost a half-second later, the thunder cracked above my head. So I darted in here. Now it's monsooning off the concrete and the cars.
I am dryer than a person in the rain should be, but I'm stuck between the smoking shelter and the revolving doors until it eases up. Thunder rolls above. I will probably have to make a run for it.
It reeks of cigarettes in here. Cigarettes and gossip. I feel like praying just to change the atmosphere. And there is clearly a lot of atmosphere to undo.
Ironically, one of the vapers just emerged out of the revolving doors, took one look at the sky and then at me. I smiled and waved, a non-smoker in the smoking shelter, stuck and waving at a smoker trapped in the building, each of us wanting to trade places without getting wet.
I feel there is some sort of metaphor in there, but the rain's stopping now so I'm going to run.
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