I

Ryan opened the window, squinted, blinked.
Rain.
After a night like that any weather would have seemed magnificent, but rain... well. Rain was perfect.
Without giving his mind a chance to wander, Ryan turned himself back into the room and in one liquid movement dressed in the blink of an eye.
Purpose, action, motion.
A cigarette and no toast for breakfast and he was outside, keys, change and all. Diving into the street, striving toward purpose, replacing reason with feedback and concentrating on the imperative- If you stop, you fail.
Wet through, steam coming out his nose like Taurus.
Old, wet faces cursed his passing with mutters and oaths, his image in the raindrops the only proof he ever existed. Move, don't think. If you stop, you fail.

Destination. Resolution. Happenstance and kismet.

All things considered? Good day for a funeral.