It rained. It rained and rained and my eyes stung and it felt a bit like crying because the tears were there against my will and made me think I should feel melancholy, but I don’t. Or maybe I do and nature’s response was appropriate. I pulled over a few yards past the local Indian restaurant when I could no longer see and decided to get some vindaloo. “Look at that rain. Do you live here?” asked the woman at the table across from me, as she twisted in her chair to look out the wide open windows. And thus began my evening with Meg.
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