“Rain, ugh!”

“It smells fresh, electric, I love it”
“What?  You’re all wet”
“Well, it is rain, rain is water, water is, well… is wet”
“Where did you get that”

“What”
“Rain, water, wet—you’re crazy”
“Rain is good for the earth—just look how parched things are.”
“Good for ducks.”

“Since they cut watering to twice a week the park looks peaked—this will spruce it up.”
“Spruce?  What’s got into you?”
“Here, stand under my umbrella, you are getting soaked.”
“Go soak yourself”

“Come on, don’t be like that.”
“Like what?
“You’re all wet”
“Philosopher!”

“Don’t philosopher me, you… you antagonist”
“Fancy words don’t hurt me.”
“Get on.”

They part, taking different pathways, shaking heads—a dry coif and a wet head