Emancipation

Yesterday it rained. Life is like a dream of children dancing in the summer rain. But there was no dancing. There are no children here. Instead, there were many people trying to get out of the rain that they had been asking for for days. Instead of relishing in the cool, cathartic rain, they prayed for the nightmarish heat to return. The torrential downpour was sudden, catching the vast majority of people off-guard, at least those who did not tune in to the weather regularly. He, of course, was one of these people. He sighed and continued walking up the street. Shoes drenched. The squelch of leather against soaked skin and flooded sidewalk. He noticed that the children were all gone. They would play in the park further down the block, delightfully splashing under the man-made jets of water that shot up from an invisible, seemingly-infinite source. The adults knew better; tax dollars well spent on city park activities. But as the grape-sized droplets fell from the laden clouds, aided by gravity, there were no children in sight. No one played in the rain anymore. This fear of nature, of the natural source of the nourishment of all living things, bothered him a little. For the past few days, society blanched in the unbearable heat, unable to concentrate, unable to adequately socialize without shade, cool artificial breezes and cold beverages. Now that there was a marked drop in humidity and temperature, there were many who cowered in fear. Umbrellas were ineffective attempts at shelter. Nobody knew what they wanted. There was heat, and they complained. Now there is no heat but a lot of wet, and again the masses are unsatisfied.
He reached his destination, paused and looked up. The droplets were cool, refreshing, suitable reprieve from the swelter of days past. He smiled. Once more around the block, why not? His arms outstretched, shuffling feet upgraded to a mere amble. His daring increased exponentially with each step. Soon, he was dancing in the rain, to the tunes of the Water Waltz, the Rain Robot, the Storm Swing. Nobody was around to judge him anyway, or they were hurriedly seeking shelter and did not join in the party. He embraced the precipitation that made the ground pulse with fervor, falling rain that lifted his spirits. Carefree, problems on hold. A liquid panacea. He inhaled life and exhaled doubt.
Across the street, a woman is moving into her new apartment. She walks to her sport utility vehicle and opens the back door. Unknown to her, a black pair of underwear falls out of a bag and saunters its way down the block in the newly formed rivulet between sidewalk and roadway. Incognizant, she continues her busy task and returns to her building. He watches it float away, lost forever in the rapid deluge, its lot is to be eroded by time and the elements. It is the fate of unnoticed objects. From the building she just walked into, a man and his daughter walk out. He asks her loudly if she wanted to go play in the rain. She looks up in the sky with eyes barely two years old, and does not move from the step. He asks her to say yes daddy. She does and his delight is evident as he picks her up and walks into the torrent. The rain hits her on the face - she flinches and buries her head into her father's shoulder. It is a painful endeavor for her. The father sees this and wordlessly carries her back indoors; both are soaked and defeated.
He didn't feel like dancing anymore; he was dancing alone anyway and who does that? The steady plops sharpened to stinging drops. There were no means of a quick escape from this onslaught. He too had had enough and now wished for the rain to cease... and as abruptly as the downpour began, so too was it abated. His emancipation was short lived. Umbrellas shook around him, a round of applause for the end of an unexpected discomfort. He turned around and headed for home.