The October evenings had been unseasonably cold, but by seeming way of apology, this evening was back in the mid sixties, so the couple tossed some hooded sweaters on and went for a walk through a nearby subdivision.
The man noticed a pair of shoes first, tucked haphazardly under a car. Then, his wife noticed a shirt, then another shirt, both hanging high in some trees.
No new clothing for a few blocks made them talk about it. They postulated that the carelessly nakeding couple must have taken a different path through the suburb.
They turned a corner and stopped short. Right there: middle of the sidewalk, a skirt and a pair of pants both half soaking in a puddle of something dark, wet, and shimmering and bubbling under the lamp light.