The day Belle went out to catch rainwater in a glass nobody listened. Everybody was watching from the windows, and there she stood, hair drenched and running all over the place, her clothes molding to her body like the blues, the water glass filling by the second. I thought I saw her head turn up toward the sky and it was like I could hear across the yard into other people’s houses. I could see their shoulders moving, silhouettes in the window, while she waited in the rain. They pointed, laughing hysterically, laughing like fools, laughing at the wrong thing.