in the rain

I watched as the man walked in the rain. Not a hard rain, but steady. He was wearing a stained leather jacket and no hat. His grey hair, matted and wet, seemed to glisten. As I watched, the man stopped, looked down. He stooped and moved as if to pick something up, though I saw nothing in the rain. He then continued his unhurried pace, around the corner and out of my view.

I crossed the street to the spot where the man had stooped down. Looking at the pavement, I saw only my reflection. The stairs to my apartment beckoned, and drew me to refuge.