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I saw you standing at the entrance to the café. You were mesmerising. The rain caught the tip of your nose like a kiss; carefully planted there so it would never leave.

You always did smile in rain. “it feels nicer than the sun”

You feel nicer than the sun. You always did. And I know what you meant about rain and how it feels. When you cried on me that night you’re mother died I could feel your body exhale. And I felt the wet tears on my forearm and the damp t shirt sticking to me felt like your sadness falling out of you, like when you fall on a rollercoaster. That awful lurching feeling like you’ve lost all your insides to the sky. I also felt close. Close to what you were before and after you lost what you had. I think I felt you crack a little. I’ve never felt that way. Even when your smile radiates an almost heat, I’ve never felt the way I did when you cracked onto my body. I felt close and comforted, in a perverse and ugly way. I wish I hadn’t. I was all you needed, and that was all I wanted.