The car slowed down to let me cross the crosswalk and then accelerated to run me over. I was saved by a nun passing by; her light overshadowed the driver—he missed me. It would be a miracle, but it started raining.
I asked, “Do you have an umbrella?”
“Yes, but it is mine,” she replied.
“What do I do with this rain falling on me? Have pity sister. After all, you saved me.”
“God will have compassion upon thee, so I’ll keep the umbrella,” she retorted as she walked away protected.
I’ll never understand this relationship between nuns and rain.