One rainy night

Last night, as the cab neared the apartment, we could see water on the street glimmering ahead of us, waves lapping at the speed bump that marked my stop. The speed bump had acted as a barrier to the flood, and I could get off the cab and go to my room without wading in flood water. In front of the apartment, people -- two tenants and their friends -- were huddled, waiting, I assumed, for the water to recede or a safe way to leave. 

Three parties were blessed the moment I arrived: me, because I could go home without walking through water; my neighbors' guests, because a suddenly empty cab just happened to arrive in front of them; and the cab driver, who was visibly worried he'd have to drive through flood in unfamiliar streets to bring me to my destination.