Rain-washed

I find comfort in the rain. Always have. Feels as though nature is washing the guilt off all of humanity while you and I sit comfortably behind the wheel, driving through well-washed suburban streets. I love how the red break lights from the vehicles ahead bleed onto the wet tarmac. May be I should turn off climate control and roll down the window a bit. What’s that fragrance I’m groping for?…ah!…Petrichor! But I don’t find any. Outside, by the streetlight, I see four heads sticking out from a gap between the slabs on top of the drain . A beady eyed mom and her three pups sat helpless in the water, getting drenched, not knowing what else to do.  Water level had risen and they could no longer find shelter under the slabs. Suddenly, I don’t feel so comfortable anymore. Should have just stayed indoors, sipping on some hot chocolate, continuing to believe that everything is peachy