I have always enjoyed the summer storms that come fast and hard, with thunder rolling through the busy downtown streets, the rain driving people back to the shops, and me protected behind my plate-glass perch, twelve storeys up, with a broad, treeless view of the unfolding drama below. I once saw a man, though, someone strangely out of place, like an animal walking calmly against the pull of his herd to the slaughter, walking slowly down the street even as the rain picked up, then the only person still out, walking towards his motorbike knowing he’d only be getting wetter.
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