It’s raining outside. The pitter patter of the water hitting the sides of the window brings back a memory. The memory is simultaneously warm and frigid.

The warmth is a reminder of the time you spent running around New York City in the rain. It was just sunny. There was a crowd of people surrounding you while waiting in line for the small rollercoaster at Coney Island. The air smelled of sea breezes, popcorn and cotton candy. You are already drenched in sweat from the humidity, but the rain comes on with a sudden pour. It’s finally your turn and you just go for it.

The rollercoaster is much more thrilling in the rain. Wind and water brush across your body as the cart maneuvers itself in circles and hills. A strange sensation of freedom rushes through you and you let out excited screams of joy. The cart slows and comes to a screeching halt amplified by the traction of the rubber against the wet steel. Everyone else has left.

You decide to stay.

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