My Cardboard Balcony

Random Rain the kind that starts with excited thunder eager to start a marching band, and the snare drums of the patter-patter-patter drum on hollow roofs where everyone wears headphones and doesn't hear the percussion, but the wind blows just enough so that the smell wafts through the open window, sweetens you, lifts you with the petrichor and the ambiance of a brand new autumn.

Fresh out of the refrigerator was a leftover casserole. I lifted up the plastic covering and smelled the thawing meat, the dry cheese. A spin in the microwave could soften it a bit. It would do. Jason was still taking a shower as I ate. We were supposed to be at Lucy's recital in an hour. I didn't quite understand why he couldn't shower in the morning or at least some time that didn't send me into a panic about whether or not we'd make it somewhere in time.