Water

Dovi said "now I know what a sink feels like" as the rain poured on him. "I hate rain" he said.

"You should never hate rain. I come from a country where we had droughts and the poor cows and sheep got so thin, their bones stuck out so they looked like skeletons covered by ragged blankets. The ground was dry and hard and cracked, and the grass turned brown and died. As the drought went on, we were told via TV advertisements and newspapers, to only flush the toilet when we really had to. We had to limit the water we used for bathing, and nobody ever let the water run when they brushed their teeth."

He wrinkled his nose at the alarming picture I had set before him, though not flushing the toilet was not unheard of for him.

I wasn't quite done. "We are made from water, 61.8 percent to be exact."

"what does that mean?" he asked. "Our bodies are 2/3 water-pretty much. We need water to live, and we get water from rain. Every single life form, must have water to survive."

He sighed deeply. He was soaked, his hair lank on his forehead. "I like rain."

"We'll be home soon" I said.