cleaning up the rain

I am unloading the dishwasher when I hear Elsie's footsteps thundering through the apartment, all the way from our bedroom, along the corridor, through the sitting room and towards me. 'Hello you' I say, but she ignores me, grabbing a cloth we keep handy for clearing up what ever she's dropped during mealtimes, and running back the way she came.

Wondering what she could possibly have dreamed up for herself now with such urgency, I leave the dishes and wander after her. When I get to our bedroom doorway, I see her at the window, where raindrops are running down the outside of the pane. She is enthusiastically wiping at the drops. On the inside.

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