It was still early in the evening but it felt late. It felt very late. Maybe it was the raindrops, which were falling down in a hurry, chasing her down the road. Drenched in raindrops, she felt warm still. -Why do you have to hurry, you don't have to go nowhere, enjoy this, a part of her said. -No, no, its getting late, she rebuked herself. Why this obsession with lateness?? -Everything has its time and this is time for here. She thought she heard the man standing under the eaves of the cafe say this. Of course, he did not; he was just watching her, steam off his coffee, hands warm about the cup. He was watching a world go by, getting late for nothing.
on moist skin
her body curved