Tonight on the way home from work it started raining. I'd walked up to the tram stop on the corner of Collins and Swanston and thought about how much I liked being in the city at night. There's no shelter on that corner, just one of those new LCD screens telling you when the next tram's coming. I could have gone back to the Performing Arts Centre entrance and waited but fuck that. I realised I was hunched, my hands pushed right into the pockets on my jacket, then relaxed. It wasn't that cold, wasn't uncomfortable, thought about why we reflexively get under cover when it rains.
The rain stopped and started again and this time heavier. The tram was only a minute away according to the screen and I wasn't uncomfortable enough to move anyway. An obese middle aged woman walked up to me, her head cocked.
'Would you like an umbrella? You can share mine.'
'Nah it's fine. I'm too annoyed to move. Bad day at work.'
'Oh yes, it gets like that.'
My instincts from work kicked in and I tried to keep the conversation going. I realise now that it probably sounded fucken strange.
'So where you off to at this time of night?'
'Oh, the arts centre. I'm going to meet some friends there. I said I'd be there at eight o'clock.'
I asked her what she was going to see and she told me. I thanked her for the offer of the umbrella. Told her it was very thoughtful and you didn't see much of that. Then the tram got on and she got in the front door, I got in the side and started reading my latest book. It's The Year of Our War. I have no idea what it's about.