No-one comes to trouble her at all. 

Eventually, a tram appears at the end of the street, skating into view along its rails. 

Hannah settles her phone back into its pocket, and watches as the tram pulls up. It's grey and gold, in a delicate livery with the same flowering-tree motif. The conductor's compartment is closed, as always. 

A blue-haired woman sits in the back, head against the tram window, looking out at the rain. She's wearing a pink knit cap and a one-piece raincoat, and an umbrella sits across her lap.

... Fuck, she forgot her umbrella. 

Hannah shakes her head and smiles to herself, and steps aboard. 

The woman in the knit cap looks up at her with a bright smile, and nods to her. 

"Sweet rain," she says.

"Sweet rain." Hannah sits across from her on the other side of the tram, and waits for the tram to jerk to a start.

The tram starts off down the rails, deeper into the town. 

The other woman seems content to stare out the window, not bothering to speak a word more. The rain seems to have stolen away her speech.

That suits Hannah just fine. 

She settles into the cushioned seat, and watches as the streets and shops roll by outside her window. 

Row after row of houses glide by, each one unique. That one has a portico, the next a tower-like front room, the next a small rock garden in its front yard. The rain patters on the roof of the tram, tik-tik-tik against the steel. 

The tram stops at another station, and a man in a three-piece suit and red brocade vest boards. He holds a cane in one hand and an umbrella in the other. 

He leans the cane against the seat and closes his umbrella. "Sweet rain," he says to both Hannah and the woman in the knit cap.

"Sweet rain," Hannah replies. She smiles slightly at the man's outfit. "Watchmaker's fan?"

In response the man pulls a silver pocket-watch out of the pocket of his vest, and shows it to Hannah. It's entirely skeletonized, the mechanism clearly visible though protected with glass.

Hannah nods and smiles, and sits back in her seat. 

The woman in the knit cap smiles as well. "Sweet rain."

The man in the vest nods, and takes his seat, pulling his umbrella and his cane together in his lap.

The tram starts up again, and more houses roll by.

They'll be coming to the bridge over the river soon. Hannah turns in her seat and braces herself against the back of it, looking out for the edge of the water.

And here the river is, dull and grey with rain, with ducks floating on it in a small squadron. The trees in the park on the other side flutter in the wind, their leaves seeming to shimmer. 

The tram tracks jolt and judder below them as they pass over onto the bridge, and then the water is below them. 

Hannah presses her nose to the glass and watches, a small smile on her face. 

She's always loved the river. 

Alas, it too must pass behind her, and then she's on into the parkland and the city center. 

The il'ka isn't far.

Hannah puts a hand onto the seat back next to her, readying herself to stand. The tram jostles again, and she sways with it, a small smile lingering on her face. 

The inner tram station comes up to the side of them, and the tram judders to a stop. 

The vest-wearing man stands, as does the woman in the knit cap. They both nod to Hannah. 

She nods back and stands as well. 

The steps down to the platform are colder than the tram, but she can see the sign of the il'ka just a little further down the street. It shimmers with a warm yellow glow, its rose emblem bright against the grey sky. 

She takes the sidewalk at a brisk walk, down the steps from the tram platform, around the cornet, and in through the double doors, pushing them open by the well-worn brass handle.

The local il'ka is full to bursting, today. Every last one of the tables is full of a group of three or four women sitting together, chatting lowly, and listening to the rain. Soft jazz music flavors the bustle, adding to the café ambience. There's a small line at the counter for coffee and wristbands. 

Hannah gets in line, and takes a few moments to refamiliarize herself with the place. It's been... months, at least, since she's been here. She's kind of been avoiding it.

Booths stand on the inner wall, with tables and vinyl seats. Closer to the green glass windows, there are round tables with antique wooden chairs, each one well-padded with red cushions. The crowd is mostly women, but there are one or two men scattered in as well. People are on their laptops, chatting together, or both at the same time. 

The line ends at a small glass counter filled with pastries. An espresso machine and a cash register stand behind it, with two women in cable-knit sweaters working the till and the coffee machine respectively. A small pile of red wristbands sits behind glass next to the till. 

The double doors into the private half of the il'ka stand on the far side of the room, behind the counter. A small chip reader is on the wall next to them. 

The line shifts slowly as people take their coffees and go to stand near the windows or take wristbands and walk through the double doors deeper into the il'ka. 

Before too long, she's at the till herself. 

"Sweet rain," says the cashier with a soft smile. "Hannah, right? It's been a while since I've seen your face. You used to be one of our regulars, weren't you?"