|Tell me how you REALLY feel.|
I was sitting calmly on the 830, contemplating the lugubrious scene before me (not that Provo is naturally lugubrious, except during finals week at BYU; it was snowing and raining all day). We went around the corner of 700 North and 400 East. I used to live very near there, so I looked around, in the hope of kindling a fond memory or two.
Instead, I saw puddles. Massive, huge, cold, unforgiving, student-hating puddles. Every place where sidewalk met street was a huge puddle. A huge puddle that covered the whole sidewalk, and a decent portion of the street. A huge puddle that even the most able-bodied of busninjas would not be able to skirt around without climbing up the side of a house or sharing a lane of traffic with cars (neither of which I recommend unless you're mentally prepared for it). There was one on every single corner.
And my tears of joy mingled with the rain, for I no longer live in Provo.