Pawley watched the rain streak the dirty glass. He liked the way the droplets started out small at the top, hung there for a moment, raced downward until they met a companion, hung for a shorter time, and then began the long swift plunge to the bottom of the pane, taking everything with them. Life is like that. Nobody likes to go down alone.
Waiting Room" by Charles Runyon, from Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine)
(I snatched this from the Rara-Avis e-mail list, from the member Ron Clinton, who probably won't mind. I don't know the publishing year.)