The Symphony of Rain

Whispers of rain on glass, the quiet symphony of a bruised sky. We wait in the shadows of afternoon, counting the seconds between thunder.

Coffee cools in porcelain cups, a forgotten warmth against the chill. Outside, the city blurs into watercolor, grey concrete dissolving into mist.

Time stretches thin, elastic, caught in the heavy air of the storm. We trade glances instead of words, understanding the language of the weather.