Lluvem

There's a quaint little bookstore that I frequent with my husband (Carlos, this morning). Today we were on our way to the hospital, when Carlos decided he needed reading material. The impending birth of a child, it seems, would not be entertainment enough. After Carlos pulled up across from the bookstore, I sighed, conceded, and waited as he turned in to the alley leading to Lluvem's customer parking. By the time we had pulled into the alley, not even parked yet, several years had passed, and our daughter groaned from the back seat as dad got out to spend yet another 'jiffy' in our favourite bookstore. It was raining lightly, as it is now. The mists come lightly, softly, and few by few. They bring with them the sadness that one knows after the anticipated end of a long period of happiness. A pink and brown brick library, on a downtown street, in the middle of a shower. If ever it were so...