He turned to see Vaishnavy, remarkably dry and holding a bright yellow umbrella. She was wearing that familiar, mischievous smirk that usually meant Sharun was about to be the punchline of a joke.
"I told you it would rain," she said, stepping under the awning next to him. "But someone was too busy arguing that the weather app is 'always wrong.'"
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"You know," Sharun said softly, "if I had brought my umbrella, we wouldn't be stuck here. We'd be halfway to the cafe by now."
Sharun sighed, trying to look annoyed but failing. "The app said 20% chance. I played the odds." He turned to see Vaishnavy, remarkably dry and
"Well, the odds just drenched your favorite shirt," she laughed, closing her umbrella and shaking off the excess water. "Move over, you’re hogging the dry spot."
The humid air of the city finally broke as the first heavy drops of rain hit the pavement. Sharun stood under the narrow awning of a closed bookstore, checking his phone for the fifth time. He was supposed to meet Vaishnavy ten minutes ago, and his umbrella was sitting uselessly on his living room couch. "Typical," a voice chirped from behind him. "But someone was too busy arguing that the
Vaishnavy leaned her shoulder against his. "And if we were at the cafe, we wouldn't be watching the storm. Sometimes the 'wrong' plan is better."