The Warm Sound of Rain

I always like to catch the shadow of the story in the late night when the rain falls - it may be the broken hair rubbing against the collarbone of the person next to me, it may be the muffled whisper of the other person in the arms when the fingertips touch the old scar, or it may be the sound of the rain suddenly slowing down when the two bodies melt together. There are no turbulent ups and downs in the writing. I just want to hide the softness of intimacy and the warmth of the years in every warm rain and every bright light, and tell it to people who understand. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.