"Miguel, it's always raining at the carwash, ya know."
"Yeah, Doc, but when your drivin' through, there ain't no clouds. No sky."
Miguel's eyes were a desperate blue, and his hands held one another for a moment, then jumped into his pockets, as if they were afraid of one another, afraid of what they might do.
"It's not real rain, Doc. Not the kind God cries."