The street was slicked with rain; the combination of street lamp, front and rear lights, and the occasional blinker refracted in the beads made a pattern most pleasing.  She huddled beneath my umbrella, which I was very smart to bring.

“It’s too bad,” I said, “there’s no way of telling what bar they went into.”

“It has to be one of these though,” she said.

“That’s true.”

We walked around another block.  I didn’t think it was so very late but the sidewalks were deserted; we were the only pedestrians in sight.  “I think you’re lost,” she said.

“It’s likely.”

“I’m lost too,” she said.  “It’s a good thing.”