Wherever he went, it rained. It became somewhat incongruous when all around him the city was lit in bright sunlight while he slouched along in his own personal gloom. His hair was always soaked. His shoes squished when he walked. Even inside a building, the light dimmed as the cloud waited outside like a lost puppy.
The girl at the counter placed his burger platter in front of him. “Was she beautiful?” she asked.
He looked at her in startlement. “She is beautiful,” he said, pointing to the delicate raindrops that traced his name down the outside of the window.
Walters on Pretty Heroines in Fantasy
11 hours ago