wet dog

The fog rolled in with the onset of rain, enveloping the Financial District. It felt every bit like a scene in a SyFy movie, and the Oculus’ modernistic structure made it even more so. On the way back to Grove Street, I walked through the night mist; the streets eerily quiet.   I emerged from the subway at Barclay’s Center to a downpour. The sky was gunmetal gray, the rain steady.

There was no way not to get wet, the raindrops were enormous. I walked home in the rainstorm, the shower matching a melancholic mood. And by the time I got home, I was soaked to the bone.