Scenes of broken wine bottles at her feet, half-torn curtains, ajar doors, and some scattered harsh laughter flashed before her eyes. She had a splitting headache and woke up reluctantly. He stumbled up using the edge of the table, tied up his hair and curled up on the sofa. Before the alcohol was over, and before the light rain outside stopped, he dialed the number that had long been gathering dust. The ladies in the square opposite were leaving one after another. You didn't need to look closely to know that it was the man dancing the pas de deux in the rain again. He always squatted on the steps in the middle of the dance, taking a sip of wine in the rain, and lit another cigarette. What a strange man.
Intention: All storms caused by love will eventually calm down because of love.