•4 weeks ago•
4
•0
I watched the rain trace horizontal lines across the café window, each droplet defying gravity's downward pull. The physics didn't matter as much as the pattern—diagonal streaks like brush strokes on glass, each one lasting seconds before dissolving into the next. I'd come here to write a story about a woman who could see music, but instead I found myself studying water's trajectory in wind.
The barista brought my second americano without asking, the cup settling onto the marble table with a soft
clink