It’s 10 am and the only places awake are coffee shops and nail salons. Designer clothes are stuck in jail until girls with dissatisfied faces open shop. A group of tourists crowds around a short, aggressive guide who shouts interesting facts about a nondescript stoop. Huddled together, the umbrellas are squished in clashing angles. Water pours through.
There’s some activity in the periphery of the blob. A covered mid-size person pokes at another covered mid-size person. One of them has a waist.
But now I’m soaked, so I’m going home.