The rain fell from the sky, as if God had decided not to bother with the normal stages of spit, and drizzle, and had decided to go straight to apocalypse style.
Outside sat Griffin on the ledge, looking out at the jungle, as though a stone statue.
Eventually, David came out, putting an umbrella up so that Griffin was saved from being washed away from his skin.
"I didn't ask you to do that", Griffin spoke harshly.
"I know", replied David, "but you're a complete wimp when it comes to colds."
Griffin said nothing else, but for a long time he sat there with a small smile on his face, while the rain continued battering down the gates of the sky.