Wind, Rain

It might rain. That’s what they said, at least. Teresa heard people talking about it when she awoke this morning to a foreign ceiling. She would stare at it for a long time, trying to figure it all out. The night before she moved from body to mind and back again, and again, and again.

Right now she is walking down the street towards the park. No umbrella. Sometimes you want to get wet, after all. Her shower this morning had washed away the physical grime of the past couple days, but the young student needs something more and the exuberant gusts of wind now billowing through her hair are working very well. The line of trees beside her on the sidewalk dance, stationary flurries and she dances with them. Guilt, lust, and the fumes of the creature begin to be strained from her conscience. She inhales the air deeply, affirmed at the power of nature, even if just a city park.

The dancer in the purple dress calms herself as she walks by a young man who looks to be about Teresa’s age. He is a soccer referee by the looks of his cleats, striped uniform, and whistle. He is familiar to her only through an approximate style she fancies. They have never met before, not him, but that is not to say that they will not. Since coming to the college Teresa has been noticing both in herself, and in others, the nature in which the sexes play both the expedient and the pawn. She glances over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of his backside as he walks away. If he is a referee then surely he himself plays on some sort of team. She wonders what position?

Continuing down the side walk, now nearing the entrance to the park she spots a police officer on a horse who is overseeing a small gathering of people where the road has been blocked off. She walks up to the large black animal and the horse’s head swings around to inspect her, such powerful large eyes, in them her reflection upside down on the black curvature.

“Hello,” she says, more or less to both of them, extending a hand slowly towards the horse’s mane. “What is going on here officer?” She asks of the human, who has now taken notice of her.

“Preparations for the Adjour parade, ma’am. Colorful floats, horseback, and horse-drawn carts and wagons. The whole works. We have one every year at the end of frosh. It ends here at the park.”

“It looks like it will rain.”

He frowns openly at her, studying her likewise expression for a moment. “You seem happy about that.”

Teresa tries to hide the smile she was unaware of having on her face. Suddenly she feels incredibly guilty. “Will it be cancelled?”

“No, we’ll have it.” He nods to affirm this. “Like I said we have one every year.”