In Transit

The humidity was at an all time high, like it always was during the summer months. Rain or no rain, clothes inevitably became damp and sticky. 

She had given up the fight. She wore weather-appropriate clothing, but if she forgot her umbrella it didn't bother her. She watched everyone else huddle under the bus shelter, searching for a dry spot where there was none. 

She stood alone with nothing over her but the sky, her arms spread wide, a twirl in her step.

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