Counting pills on a rooftop in the rain

I'm standing on a hospital rooftop, the kind with a gravel surface and a low wall. In my hands is a mortar and pestle, but the pills are too many—they keep spilling over the edge, falling into the parking lot below. The rain is warm, and I'm not trying to stop it. I just keep counting, one by one, and the numbers don't add up to anything.