It rained hard yesterday afternoon. The postman rang the doorbell. He was drenched. He makes for a graceless figure, heaving his cumbersome body about, breathing heavily and barely raising his head in greeting. I comment on the wetness and how uncomfortable he must be. He grunts an acknowledgement and continues rummaging around in his back. There’s a letter as well, he says, handing it to me. I thank him and shut the door.
