Standing in the rain, hailing a cab…every one passes us by. The numerous pockets of my pants fill with water, weighing them down past my hip. Through mascara flooded eyes, I gaze up at you…strong, composed…you raise your arm for every orange, black and checkered. I’m so proud to stand under your shadow, so proud to be your woman and wait while you hail me a cab. The rain pours down my blouse and I laugh aloud as a passing car sprays us with water. A minute goes by, then two, then three…you reel at my laughter, and then begin to chuckle yourself. As the drops flood our ears and eyes and mouths, you take me in your arms and plant your mouth firmly over my smile; like a million movie scenes, we kiss in the rain as the traffic whizzes by. In that moment, I couldn’t care less that I would be late for work. It didn’t matter to me that I was soaking wet, or that my make-up was a mess, or that people might be staring…the only thing I cared about was the fact that you kept a key to my place in your pocket at all times, and that you would meet me after work with a kiss.