Rain pours down the windows in sheets. Sustained notes drift out of the speakers, flowing over the cabinets and onto the floor, leaving warmth in their wake.
I’m lying on my back for five minutes before I need to leave.
A door shuts outside my apartment, somebody vanishing into the storm, perhaps for another somebody.
My heartbeat quickens in the darkness, a twinge of euphoric anxiety crawling across my skin.
The two empty water glasses on the bedside table remind me why.
The clock tells me five minutes have passed. I put my boots back on and turn the music off. Wind tears through the gaps between buildings, shrieking at the streets, the rain at its mercy.
Hood up and headphones on, I close the door behind me, and step out onto the sidewalk.
Just somebody vanishing into the storm for somebody else.
Specifically – you.