fragment: picnic in the park.

I looked back at my friend. He was standing at the beginning of the path, the bag from the bakery in one hand, the other stuffed firmly in his coat pocket. He looked cold. But, I reflected, he was still smiling, so he must be okay. I backtracked and slipped my arm through his.

"Come on, let's find a bench."

"You said the rain was stopping."

"It has. See? Look at that puddle, not a sign of a drop hitting it." He dutifully looked where I directed, then back up at the grey sky.

"It doesn't feel like it's stopped."

"That's just because the air is wet." I replied blithely, and tugged on his arm. "C'mon!"