By Sunday evening, the sky had already turned gloomy. By dawn on Monday morning, it had begun to rain.
A spring rain.
For the children, the rain had clearly come at just the right time. They could wear their rubber boots and stomp through the puddles without worrying about the bitter cold.
For the workers, it was not too bad either. At worst, it was a little stuffy.
But for people from the upper and middle classes, rain was clearly their least favorite kind of weather, because the raindrops would send dust swirling up from the ground and splatter their trouser legs.
Or the soles of their shoes would carry muddy water into some upscale establishment, leaving behind rows of black footprints.
That was not something well-bred ladies and gentlemen should do. The ladies would often remain at home at times like this, while the gentlemen tried to be as careful as possible or carried two pairs of shoes with them.
One pair was for wearing while driving. Once they reached the parking lot, a lounge, or some other place, they would change into the other pair of leather shoes.
The wealthy and powerful gentlemen disliked this miserable weather, but they had no choice except to head to the Capitol Building.
The Speaker stood by the office window, smoking. He liked watching the congressmen enter the Capitol Building from below whenever meetings were held on rainy days.
They held nearly identical dark umbrellas. In the rain, they looked like filthy splashes of water bubbling up from the sewers—black splashes.
The comparison might have been a little sarcastic, but that was the Speaker's most genuine thought.
The Committee Chairman sat in the chair behind him. Once all the current proposals had been dealt with, the Speaker would submit his resignation to