The rain fell across his face, washing away the agony of disgrace and sorrow that had only been pouring out a moment ago. The torrent had come upon him so suddenly that he did not know what had come over him, except that he was in the cafe one moment and then outside in the rain the next.

There had, of course, been an email in the intervening moment, which had been signed, “Yours truly.” That was all he had read, and it was enough.

Thoughts flooded his mind as effervescently as the raindrops blasted his face, one after the next, a million all at once.

Had it really come to this? was all he could wonder, repeatedly repeating to himself, under his breath, the words, “Respire and retire.”

Breathing had become difficult, drenched as his face was with the rain. To be sure, his upturned face did no good in shielding him from the deluge of the sky, which, like his heart, had been ripped open and all the inner fluids came gushing forth.

He was a sobbing mess of a man at this point, soaking wet with the tears of heaven.

“‘Yours truly,’” he repeated, reflecting on the signature of the email that had come so unexpectedly. What could he do now?

He might have gotten up, if he could have, and gone back into the cafe to read the whole email, but he knew that if he got up, he would only be on the ground again, his legs weak from a sudden exhaustion that had come over him.

What could he do, indeed? He did not know. He would have to figure that out at some point, but right now, he was being washed anew in the downpour of the sudden rainstorm that had come upon him at the cafe.