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Posted by on June 1, 2007

I’m having this memory today, maybe triggered by the lowering skies, of the first time I went to Gene’s house, back when we were kids. His mom made us lemonade and looked delighted to see me (a welcome I would have thought I’d wear out in thirteen-odd years, but no, bless her). Gene and I sat in the backyard and played nerd games and smouldered at each other in an adolescent way.

Afterwards, I walked home in my floaty flowered dress and passed an old man out torturing his lawn. “Hey, pretty girl,” he called. “Where’s the rain?” He pointed a trowel at the cloudy sky.

I smiled and shook my head. When you’re fourteen and in love, you never do expect the rain to come.

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