He chased the raindrops with her finger against the glass as they raced to the bottom of the window. His mother's gaze never left the road, too busy muttering to herself about the weather forecast and how it hadn't mentioned rain let alone a torrential downpour.
This wasn't as interesting to him as racing raindrops so he paid no mind to how worried she began to sound as she spotted people standing on either side of the motorway, faceless and unmoving. He protested as she slammed the brakes, the raindrops no longer racing across but splattering against the window with no aim.
The cars in front of them were empty, their doors flung open as though the owners had run away all of a sudden. He leaned forward in his booster seat, barely noticing his mother's knuckles turning white as she gripped the steering wheel with grim determination.
With no explanation she got out of the car, her movements jerky and barely coordinated enough to open the door. She didn't close it behind her, didn't look back and didn't get any further than the side of the motorway before her body jolted as if she'd been hit by lightning and she became as still as everyone else.
He began to cry - he didn't know what else to do. His tears obscured everything turning the world into a watery haze; he almost didn't see the way the rain parted for people that weren't quite there until their translucent hands reached for the window, tracing racing raindrops again and again and again.
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