Outside, Still a Drizzle

As the day drew to a close, I was sitting by the window. While the coffee cooled, rain began to fall outside. At first the sound tapping the glass was thin, and then before I knew it, it was settling evenly, wetting the ginkgo leaves along the road. The rain pretended to fall but in the end washed nothing away. It only made everything a little wet. Watching that rain, I suddenly thought of someone. That person, too, at about this point, would have walked without an umbrella. No, more likely they'd have stepped into the rain on purpose, holding a folded umbrella. And then, hunching wet shoulders, would have said it was fine, actually rather refreshing. Even while I think this, time passes. The bread crumbs on the plate grow smaller, the lemon slice dries and curls. The cold coffee no longer leaves any scent at all. Outside, still a drizzle. I don't leave the window yet. When the rain stops, another day will probably come. But for now, like this, between the cool air and the smell of the wet road, I think it's all right to stay a little longer.