Not for the first or the last time, Hannah wishes faintly that Luna wasn't ace. 

But the il'ka awaits her; so she pulls the hood of her windbreaker down over her face and hunches into the rain, pushing onwards. 

The rain sweeps down the asphalt and tugs at Hannah's coat, and the grey sky broods. Puddles stain the sidewalk. Houses pass on either side of her, with men and women here and there listening to the rain, silhouetted in windows or sitting outside on their porches. 

Eventually, the tram station comes into view, all green glass and steel skelature. 

Hannah takes the steps up to the tram platform in three long strides, ducking in out of the rain and pushing back the hood of her windbreaker. The rain drips from her coat to stain the concrete pad below her, but she doesn't care. She smiles. 

The rain always cheers her up a little. 

The tram station is a little cold, still. It's a good thing she's got her sweater on beneath. 

The rain rattles the green glass panes, and trickles down in rivulets. The flowering-tree emblem of the company in the facing window sheds droplets of water in smooth streams, making an intricate pattern of water-flows. 

She never gets tired of these. There's one in every tram station, but they're all unique. And this one is very familiar, almost comforting. 

She paces slowly up and down the platform to keep herself warm. It must be around fifteen degrees Centigrade. Not cold, but not warm either. 

She fishes her phone out of her pocket and connects to the tram station's wifi. 

At the station, she finger-types, careful not to drip water on her phone screen. Waiting for the tram.

What's it like? Paint me a picture.

She stills herself for a moment, and listens. 

Distantly, she can hear a faint chirp of a disgruntled bird in one of the trees across the street. The rain pitterpatters as it always does. The wind whistles through a joint at the top of the tram station, making a low, hollow note. 

The earth smells of petrichor and... distantly, cherries. The lingering scent of Mia's shampoo on her sweater. 

Hannah buries her nose in her collar and takes a deep breath. 

Then she types. 

Birds. Rain. It's really starting to come down, the station's windcatcher is whistling. The emblem's particularly beautiful today as well. 

I'm wearing your sweater. It still has a little of your scent on it. Your shampoo, and... a little of you, as well.

Good girl. Did you remember to lock up when you left the house?

Can you name any of the birds?

Of course I remembered to lock up. 

She listens a little longer. 

I think I hear magpies. That distinctive mag, mag sound. They don't sound too happy about the rain.

Very good girl. 

Alas, only magpies. You remember that pheasant that visited us a few months ago?

Hannah smiles slightly at her phone.

Do I ever. That thing's screechy, raspy call made me wonder if I was hearing a ghost for like three days before you spotted it for me.

You don't get those in built-up areas too often. It was a real surprise for me. 

Anyone else there waiting with you?

I've got the station to myself today. Everyone's staying in to listen to the rain.

That's a shame. It'd be nice to be able to people-watch a little.

Penny?

I'm thinking about how long it's been since we've gone out in the rain together, like to a park or something. 

I miss you.

I miss you too.

Try not to mope, okay?

I'm trying my best. It just comes naturally in this kind of weather. It's not such a bad mood. Just a little melancholy.

You'll feel better once you make it to the il'ka. Curling up with a coffee alone is worth something, but with a charming stranger it's even better.

But I'm not alone. I have you.

You know what I mean.

Hannah lets out a long sigh. 

Yeah, I do.

Have fun, love. I've got to go now. Meeting.

Hannah nods. 

You too.

She slips her phone back into her pocket, leans against the glass wall of the station, and listens to the rain.

The denser band of rain passes, and it settles back to a slow drizzle. The windcatcher falls silent. 

A little sun peeks through the clouds, scintillating off the puddles; and then as fast as it appeared, it's gone again behind the overcast sky. 

Hannah interlaces her fingers, and waits.