“We could just wait it out,” Curtis’s voice drones, drowned out by the rain reuniting with the pavement. The sound of each drop racing for the embrace of the ground lulls us all into a state of delirium. The street in front of us, caught in an endless battle with the water for rule of its domain. The water is winning, for the time being. I look out from under the awning shielding us from the onslaught of water warriors dropping themselves into the front lines of war. 

“Alright, fuck it,” I break us all out of the trance, stepping out into the street, instantly drenched—as if I had just jumped headfirst into the deep end. I didn’t care, that I was wet, about anything, I was being cleansed. Onlooking gazes meet mine, confusion and even a twinge of fear showing through their eyes.

I find myself slipping mildly into a bout of hysteria, wringing water from my hair and laughing, the echoes of my bellowing reverberating down the streets—matching the claps of thunder. For this moment, I am the only god of this universe.

“Alright, fuck it,” I hear Nick say behind me, followed by the splashing of his shoes running into the street.

“Okay, really? We’re really doing this?” Curtis grasps once more at the idea of staying dry. He sighs loudly, and his pace follows Nick’s, only seconds behind him.

All three of us stand in the street, defying nature—giving up utter control of everything as we begin to walk, and then run, and then jump.

“So, why did we do this?” Curtis asks.

“I need this. I really need this,” I answered, walking through puddles intentionally like a younger version of myself—breaking the reflection of my face, seeing the rippled version instead.

I stop again, Nick and Curtis stopping with me, on a street corner. I look up at the light, granting me a short glance at the water before it lands on me, a hindrance to its fight with the ground. I scream, louder than I’ve ever screamed, longer than I’ve ever screamed—panting and shaking, my eyes welling up with tears. I scream again. When it seems all the air is out of my lungs, I don’t risk another, but I hear a different tone—this one belonging to Nick. His scream ricochets off the faces of stores, and shoppers, all staring at us in the street.

“Alright, fuck it,” Curtis says loudly, his scream ringing out next.

We sit on the staircase back towards home, passing around a bottle of whiskey until half of it is gone, yelling, howling, laughing like mad men—watching cars push through the wall of rain on the street below. In this moment, we’re all brothers, aligned by the same lack of power to fight off the rain. The bottle clanks against the ground and we all breathe heavier than normal, our voices scratched from screaming at the sky. We gaze out at the road, flooding— our clothes now permanently attached to our skin.