It’s not raining now, but that could change at any moment. The clouds are in place: thick and gray and indeterminately stretched out above the church spires and tall buildings. The pavement is rain slick and has been long enough that no one remembers the last time it wasn’t. Walkers have umbrellas grafted to their hands, even the ones who are notoriously forgetful about such things, the ones who have vast collections of umbrellas because they perpetually forget to take one and then get caught in a squall — even those forgetful souls have the word “umbrella” in the forefront of their minds, pushing out important information about work meetings and the birthdays of nuclear family members.
mid-monsoon city pavement 's not been dry for days: quick-draw umbrella