Rory 10.2

It began raining almost immediately.  Rory's phone had one of those apps that allowed him to look up the forecast.  He rarely watched the news anymore, so the incessant weather updates hotly promoted by the local channels didn't mean anything to him. 

The rain was refreshing, a slow build-up of drips at first, comforting in anticipation, waiting to see where they would strike him next.  Then they picked up and he wondered if he would regret the absence of an umbrella.

Rory didn't mind getting caught in the rain.  As a kid he would sometimes go romp in the driveway during a storm.

Ten and then twenty minutes into the downpour, and Rory was so wet it no longer mattered.  He was wearing his bandana.  That was good enough.