Perhaps

It is raining hard in the city. It has been raining hard for days. The storm-drains are full of rushing water. The streets are semi-flooded.

Here in this city there might be a famous writer who has just finished what he considers his greatest work. His daughter may have died of a brain hemorrhage just yesterday. Perhaps she was only six or seven years old, the hemorrhage due to an undetected birth defect. Perhaps this writer still uses a typewriter instead of a computer, and has only one copy of his work. If so, his only copy and his dead daughter would seem strangely linked. He wouldn't be sure just how. Perhaps it is a short masterpiece, maybe 200 typed pages. And maybe this writer would take his manuscript out with him to have lunch and do some editing. The manuscript would be in a plastic cover to protect it from the rain. He wouldn't drive to the restaurant; he would walk.

He would arrive to the restaurant cold and wet (he carries no umbrella). Perhaps he is Jewish. If so, he wouldn't mind breaking kosher requirements and ordering a turkey sandwich with cheese. Something may make him laugh; if so, his laughter would make him cry. After lunch he would walk back home. Maybe he would pass a bridge that goes over an open storm drain. If so, he would wonder for a second whether a person caught in that rapid water could survive.

Perhaps he would drop his manuscript into the water. If so, he would drop it in all at once. If he is suddenly relieved, he isn't sure why.

End