Musings in English at 9am

When it pours, I am reminded of the simplest summer I ever had.

It was full of fun, adventure, and my friends. Everyday, I would spend the day with somone. I felt popular; I felt wanted. Every week, there was a party to go to, because we all wanted to see all of our friends before we went our separate ways.

When it pours, I remember a specific adventure of that summer.

I was at the mall with two good friends that I had really connected with only at the start of the year. We had decided to go to the mall to hang out and escape the rain.

That summer, I was a mallrat.

I had never thought it could be so fun. Stereotypically, mallrats are bums that have no lives and no money. But we weren't that way; we were just out to have fun. The three of us went to the mall often, sometimes with other friends and sometimes without. We would spend our time lounging in the chairs at the mall's center, walking around to random stores to try on clothes we'd never buy, and play hide and seek. It was a blast.

This one particular time, my two friends were tired of carrying around their hoodies. They said they were too hot to wear them inside, and didn't want to continue holding them. They asked to put them in my car. I had told the two that once they got to my car, they would want to wear their hoodies again because the cold rain would soak them immediately. They insisted that the hoodies went in the car, so we went to the door.

We ran.

You could see the rain pelting the ground all around you, freezing everyone it touched and drowning everything else. At first we couldn't find the car, but by the time we got to the parking space and hopped into the car, we were drenched.

The two looked cold, and I asked them if they were. They denied, of course. Stubborn men; they said that the mall would be warm.

The rain was five times louder in the car.
After a minute of mental preparation, we ran back.
Upon re-entering the mall, I think we bought lunch.