Last week I was riding home from the hospital after a long day and it was raining, like really raining, where each drop hurts a little when it hits and the cars have their windscreen wipers on the highest gear (except my glasses don’t have windscreen wipers) and the roads become little rivers and you pray the rivers are shallow enough for safe riding.

I was struggling up a hill, fully soaked, breathing heavily and feeling a little sorry for myself when I noticed a person running towards me. He was a caucasian man with a bald head and he wore no shirt, just a pair of running shorts and sneakers. He was sprinting down the hill while I was slowly riding up it.

“Hey!” I heard a voice shout. I kept riding, trying not to slip on the wet road. “Hey!” I looked up.

“Great weather, isn’t it?” And with this, he flew past me, laughing like a child, into the rivers below.