When the Rain Has Passed
Outside, it suddenly grows dark.
The wind blowing through the half-open window becomes stronger, and cooler.
“It’s coming!”
“Quick, the laundry!”
Hurried voices drift over from the house next door.
Before long, raindrops begin to strike the roof—one, then another.
An evening shower.
As though it can hold back no longer, the sky releases all the rain it has been carrying at once.
Someone runs down the street, one hand over their head.
They are already soaked through.
The laundry left hanging outside the house across the street has no chance of being rescued. It is wetter now than before it was hung out.
“I wonder if the neighbors got theirs in on time.”
At that moment, a white flash tears across the sky.
A little later, a low, growling roar shakes the house.
There is nothing to do now but sit quietly indoors.
Had the rain lasted an hour?
Somewhere along the way, the sound that had filled everything disappeared.
Outside the window, the rain-washed evening sun glimmers across the wet rooftops and streets.
A cool breeze drifts in, carrying the scent of earth and grass.
“It should be a little cooler now.”
“We might sleep well tonight.”
Voices like these can be heard from somewhere nearby.
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