Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, scatter, drip and drop, it simply would not stop. Samantha sighed quietly, fogging the tight space around her. It continued, unconcerned with her crushing boredom.
It took its sweet time, dripping, falling, sometimes plinking. She was dry, but cramped. Samantha was reasonably warm, but trapped.
She could just barely see a small child splashing on the other side of a bleary window. A tiny thing, she jumped and stomped and crashed. Enamored of puddles and soaking wet, the little girl would soon be whisked away to somewhere warm. The wet held no danger to her.
Oh she might be yelled at, roughly toweled, but hypothermia was nowhere near the little girl’s future – at least judging by her tiny designer jacket.
Samantha curled up and pulled her hood over her eyes. She twisted like a fetus in back of the van. She tried, in vain, to sleep through another day of rain.