First the chatter. The woman next to me talking about some catalogues, the makeup and the bedclothes therein. Then suddenly, rain: the incessant rush of a tropical downpour, the noise of shining ropes of water seen through the wide-open blue doors, moving to and fro in a breeze like the leaves of the mango tree across the street.
Meanwhile they are playing dominoes, you can hear the clinking rather steadily under the chatter, and every now and then a triumphant, loud clank, followed by the clatter of the remaining dominoes being knocked down, and a great sound like a moving purse as they are shifted around on the table for the next round.
The rain quiets down, for a few minutes slows to a few drops a second that I can hear, a bright patter. Then a hum ceases, the lights and AC are off; here and there a few dismayed sighs, some laughter. The dominoes continue in the clouded sunlight. Then a roar, the back-up power kicking in at just the same time as the rain starts falling hard again.
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