"He was roused by the tapping of raindrops against the window,..." (Tobias Wolff)

"He was roused by the tapping of raindrops against the window, a few fat drops that left oily lines as they slid down the glass. The rain stopped. Then it came again in a rush sizzling on the asphalt, glazing the cars in the parking lot, pleasant to watch after the long, heavy day.

They stood together under the awning and watched the storm lash the parking lot. Glittering lines of rain fell aslant through the glare of the lights overhead. The surrounding trees tossed wildly, and the wind sent gleaming ripples across the asphalt."

SOURCE: "Awaiting Orders" (Tobias Wolff)

From a short story in the July 25, 2005, issue of "The New Yorker."