The American boy raced down the dirt road. Behind him the monsoon came, a wall of water. It overtook him, and he was instantly soaked. He lost a shoe in a puddle and went back to retrieve it.
At home his mother said, “My goodness, Bobby, look how wet you are! Couldn’t you have waited to come home?”
“There was nowhere to go after the bus let me off, and the Sari Sari stores were closed.”
“Well, you could’ve ridden the bus to the end of its route and gotten off on the return trip. That would have only delayed you twenty minutes.”
“I know,” Bobby said, “but I wanted to get home. Besides, I thought I could outrun it.”
His mother smiled. Outside the rain continued to pour, turning the mud streets into rivers. In dry clothes, Bobby looked out the window. It was pleasant to be inside.
Copyright 2013 George Lowell Tollefson