Rain Sound Cafe

The rain woven diagonally into a gray net, covering the windows of small town cafes. He pushed the door open and came in, seeing her sitting in her old seat, turning a yellowed record cover between her fingers. "Still keeping it?" He asked. She didn't look up and just said: "The rain is too noisy, I'm afraid I can't hear your footsteps." The old record player started to spin. There are twenty years of rainy season between them, and a song that has never been finished. She counted the traces of water sliding down the window, just like she counted the marks on his shirt that would never dry out. When the rain stopped, she left the envelope and left. A new line of small words was added in the blank space: "Let's make an appointment on a sunny day, if you still like to listen to the rain."