it started as the drizzling type of rain; the kind of lazy rain that dusts against the asphalt and the brick to just grace your nose with scent — that warm, wet, and wholesome smell that can only be inside the concrete jungle of a city.

it accelerated slowly, but fast enough to be over the duration of a cigarette, when the gusts of wind began to pick up more and more of my dress and pellets of rain began to find my legs a target. the smell went away almost as quickly as it began, the dark sky shielding downtown memphis of the sunlight that should be coming through.

“storm’s coming,” the gas station attendant said to me as i paid for my cigarettes on my commute. she looked up at the sky from the giant windows adorning the side of the building, letting the bright sunlight in. it seemed like such a southern thing to say — almost like in the old movies where the old man sits on the porch and doesn’t seem to mind that two strangers have happened upon his shack of a southern house, his drawl seeping through his words in such volume that the city slickers are taken aback.

it was humid early, the moisture in the air leaving your arms and other exposed limbs sticky. i’d mention something about kudzu plants if i wanted to fall into a southern cliché. those aside, memphians are still without power today as folks navigate through the rain that left my office in particular without power for hours. poplar avenue, leading into east memphis, was particularly treacherous, with power lines and downed trees teasing the streets with their canopies and dipping structures.

“it may just be june, but the southern summer starts early,” i mentioned to a friend last night as we tried to find a frozen yogurt place that was open later than 10 p.m.

lena left for washington, d.c., today. a dear friend skipping town leaves a void that takes some time to get adjusted to and i felt the need to prepare myself mentally for having a long-distance close friend. memphis is not different from other cities in the fact that people who grow up here feel the need to leave, not necessarily forever, but to explore the world a bit. there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, of course; it just makes for some unfortunate feelings when you’re a co-star or a minor character in the feature film of their life.

los angeles was like that, too. people flock to the city from all over, yet those who grow up there feel they have to get out, get away. l.a. offers things that other cities wish they could have, a mere thought or whisper in the massive bureaucratic bubble, yet there’s this yearning. it goes to show that, even when you have everything you could offer, there’s always something else to see.

there were three people in the alley next to the office i work in as i was outside taking a smoke break. i didn’t notice their voices at all — it’s downtown, anyway — but our distribution manager, who was moving things around, did.

“i guess they’re taking photos,” he said, looking down the far end of the alley. “could be a band or some artist types.”

“are they down there?” i asked. he nodded.

i moved closer to him to watch: a woman with a green bandana across the lower half of her face and two men, one of which was directing the other two on where to stand, presumably. they were moving around awkwardly, like they didn’t know exactly what they were doing.

“maybe a punk band? kind of weird,” i said. “it’s a random alley. not really close to any iconic music locations.”

the alley isn’t remarkable in any sense. there’s more gravel than concrete and a couple of the buildings seem deserted; one in particular, next to the three standing there, had creeping vine along the side of the façade that slipped past the frosted-over windows — at least, the ones that weren’t missing. it felt like old downtown memphis, not glazed over and modernized.

“many years ago,” he said, as we watched them interact, “zz top came through memphis and took some photos down here in this very same alley. it was a real production, too. they brought in the cadillac and drove it to the end over there and shot some photos here and over by the brewery.”

i took a drag from my cigarette as we continued to watch. i hadn’t seen a camera yet, but i could barely make out what they were holding, anyway.

“it was a big deal,” he said.

pour another?