Fish and Chips

Did I really need to stop for that order of fish and chips 4 miles into my 9 mile commute home? They were undeniably fantastic, but really, did I?

I was being warned by drops of water tapping me on the shoulder, telling me to look behind me, at what I could so easily have avoided.

The winds picked up and with them brought moisture to the desert. Standing stationary at a busy stop light, I assessed surrounding buildings for shelter, and the distance I remained from home. The light turned green and I pushed the pace, though the faster I went the harder the rain fell.

I reached the point of complete dampness where I accepted my fate, and was reconciled with my commute home. I thought about how silly and unfortunate I must have looked to all of the cars passing by, and that I should keep my eyes wide and wear a huge smile, so to look as joyful as a child playing in a puddle.

The idea itself made me start laughing out loud, and fiction became reality.

Plus, those were some really great fish and chips.


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