text: We sat there, in the rain. I, on one table, her on another. The relentless onslaught, defeated by cloth and dreams, drained out onto the floor around us. The music, faint lulls of jazzy symphonies, filled the area. Neither of us wore rain coats. We sat, protected by the umbrellas, as though it were any other summer eve. “The weather’s not so good today”, I say, as if striking up a forgotten conversation. “No,” she says, before adding in an ethereal tone, “I’d say you’re right.”. She smiles, and then takes a sip of her coffee. A darkened, swirling mess, the only source of heat. “News said some terrible things.”, I say, taking a sip of my own coffee. “About?” she asks, off-handedly. “About you, about me. About... the rain.” I gesture nowhere in particular. “Terrible things are always happening around us. Would you say we make it terrible? Or is terrible destined to make itself terrible?” She sips again. “I’m not sure. But we don’t help, do we?” I take another sip. “We do. Not in the way others may like. Or understand.” She says with a smile. I grin. “The silver lining, I suppose. But it is our duty none the less.” I sip again. The warmth keeping my senses sharp. “We were there at the first. We will be there at the last. I just wished for... more” She sips. “More never stops at enough. It’s why we were there first.” I hold the drink in my hands. “Quite. And now, here we are. The last? Or a new first? Is that even our’s to know?” She sips again. “Well, that’s the fun of it! What happens next?” I sip again. “How long do we get to sit here like this?” she asks after a sip. “Until the rain stops, or the coffee runs cold. Whichever comes first. And that rain ain’t stopping.” I sip. “A shame. I liked it here. Even in the rain. But eventually I suppose we have to leave.” She sighs. Then sips. “But the coffee was worth the time. What little we have. An infinity and the end of eternity.” I take in the aroma of the coffee, and the feel in my hands. “So precious a thing, time. A gift that can never be ungiven. A moment that exists in the memory of forever.” She sips again before adding, “I count eight. You?” “I do. But that’s eight more that I never thought I’d get. And I must say, we didn’t waste them.” I lift my mug to hers in a toast. I take one more sip. “If this is the last time,” she says, after a few moments pause, “let us find this place again. If it is not. Let us be cursed with its memory.” She sips again, puts the mug down, gets up and walks off into the pouring rain. “Until next we meet” I say. A few moments later, I am truly alone. No one I wanted to see was there anymore. I sat there, in the rain, and after a few moments, took one more sip. “May we be cursed with its memory.” I say, as I take my final sip. I place the mug down, get up and walk out into the pouring rain.