Outside the rain comes pouring out of the sky onto rooftops, sidewalks, scurrying people with blue umbrellas, comes puddling down onto the blacktop of streets, the wind comes and drives the rain sideways and the branches of locust trees bend and unbend like the waists of graceful dancers at some frenetic dance, then the wind stops, the sun comes out, and the rain stops everywhere except beneath the honey locust trees where a false rain still falls from their heavy leaves and disturbs the surfaces of puddles at their feet. And inside my office environment, the only sign of change is the steady countdown from 9 to 5.