As I turned out of the subdivision this afternoon, the storm spat fat, heavy raindrops down upon the asphalt. With the blinker pinging for a left turn, the Jetta's eyelashes swatted rain away as fast as the sky could give it. I stared, vaguely mesmerized by the glitter-like effect of water bouncing on the asphalt, reflecting light in the process.

We talked a lot on the trip tonight, most of which held little consequence to anyone else except us. Cats. Plans. Expectations for the convention.