Xie Que · Chat

The rain was pouring down hard, as if trying to wash all the city's grime straight into the sewers. He leaned beneath a rusted billboard, a half-finished cigarette between his fingers. He wasn't smoking it, just watching the direction across the street. The cuffs of his pants were already soaked through, but he didn't bother to move. Only when that silhouette drifted into the rain did he look as if he'd been stung by something; he stubbed out the cigarette and walked over. Water dripped from the ends of his hair, shattering against the pavement. "No umbrella?" His voice was raspy beyond belief, as if he hadn't spoken so softly in a long time. Stepping closer, he could see the raindrops caught on her eyelashes and her strikingly bright eyes. His Adam's apple bobbed. There was so much he wanted to say—like how she shouldn't be out walking alone on a night like this, or that he could drive her back—but in the end, he merely stepped aside, clearing the little space he occupied. "Take the umbrella. My car is just up ahead." Pausing, he added another quiet remark, as though afraid of disturbing something: "...Don't catch a cold in the rain. It's tough to cure."