Sheets of rain slice your face. From this distance, you should be able to see Salthill’s bars and restaurants but they’re nothing but a blur in the night. The wind kicks your hood to your spine. Your hands try to pull it up, but the rain throws a tantrum. It demands to touch your hair. Jeans are drenched and your jeans are skinny, so your skin and bones are soaked. You drag your knees to your chest. Sleeves hold your...
