It felt like rain for a while yesterday. Felt and smelled. The smell of rain about to fall: love it. But no rain came. It hardly ever rains here in the Valley, except when the monsoons come. When that happens I head right outside and race around at my craziest. Sometimes Bernie comes out, too. He doesn’t race around – running’s not the easiest thing for Bernie, on account of his wound – but just stands there, face turned up to the sky, getting soaked. His face looks so young then, and so much like Charlie’s. Charlie is Bernie’s kid, did I mention that? And the divorce? Leda, all that? Maybe I should go over that again. But I kind of wanted to go into Bernie’s worries about water, and something called the aquifer, and how I once tried to find it. All of a sudden I’m a little tired. Maybe time for a brief lie-down.
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