It was Raining

It was raining. I closed the windows. I heard a booming noise. My dog climbed up onto the couch. I followed the sound to the parking lot in back of my house. A dark gray Honda sedan was blasting music. The driver's side door and trunk were wide open. I saw a woman exit the garage. She seemed nervous. It's not her garage. It's not her neighborhood. She was making a sound aura to protect herself. Musical cologne. She wheeled a cobalt blue motorcycle out of the garage into the rain. She was looking around. She had no helmet. She wheeled it onto the street and rode off. A few minutes later I heard the nearby revving of the motorcycle and lots of chatter from the apartment complex next door. It was still raining. The motorcycle woman returned, revved the blue motorcycle one more time, then wheeled it into the garage and padlocked the door. She climbed back into her gray Honda and blasted the car radio as she prepared to leave. All of her windows were tinted black. I stood in my yard with my dog and watched as she drove away. It was still raining.