The decision had to be made. Who would make it or even how that ‘who’ would make it seemed to be a continuing question.
Did it even matter if a decision was made or not?
The first raindrop trickled down his neck and disappeared somewhere under his shirt. Then the millions poured on him drenching him
from neck to toe. Like a soggy dog he stood in the middle of the road, arms up to the sky.
“Please”, he shouted out to the dark night that seemed to send torrents down from the some unknown hidden source high up in the sky.
“Just one! Just one”.
Bawling at the bitterness that he received from the Unseen Manipulator, he rushed on towards the moving lights, coming ever closer.
But not a single raindrop carressed his face.
Decisions cannot be made without taking a few of them on the face.
The Ignoramus 