It was raining, and there is a tradition when it rains.
It’s a bond between a young man and a boy.
“It’s raining!” He yelled as he ran from his room to the kitchen halls. The boy lived in a relatively large house making his screams muffled throughout the rest of the house.
He paces himself as he makes it to the entrance of the kitchen door. Walks in and calmly sits in a chair. “Ravi?” He calls.
The South Eastern man and the end of the kitchen table looks up, interrupted from his conversation with the boy’s mother.
“Yes?” he asks.
“I feel like I want pizza today” the boy tells him with a slight smirk.
“Is that so? Alexander?”
So they got in the car, and in those days the cars weren’t front wheel drive, they were back wheel.
They got in, and sped through the parking lot, a quick break on the manual car, and a swerve to the wheel, the car spun in a circle. Alexander gripped the sides of his chair laughing.
“This is the best Ravi. I love it when it rains.”