Three weeks it's been raining, but no puddles. No pools of murky water hiding pennies thrown from car windows, pebbles kicked along uneven pavement, bottle caps from a weekend party. Only a round seashell with the word F L O R I D A painted on its googly eyed face and a magnet glued to its back. I found it last night in a crack of cement next to the curb while taking out the garbage. I was going to leave it in its concrete grave but it stuck to my finger. Now on the fridge, it's holding up a picture of Dan and me from Angie and Luke's wedding. Some of its magnetic force may have remained in my finger, which has a strong attraction to my backspace key. I erase everything I write.