The first rain after Luna's departure felt symbolic. I walked through it, remembering how she'd fade in the downpour. The streets of Nasugbu were washed clean, but my memory wasn't.
I found myself at the plaza fountain, the neon lights reflecting off the wet tiles. The place was empty. I sat on the edge, just as we had, and let the rain soak me.
I half-expected to feel a cold spot beside me, to hear a whisper on the wind. But there was nothing. Just the steady drumming of rain and the hollow splash of the fountain. The feeling wasn't one of peace, but of absence. The world had returned to normal, and normal felt incredibly dull.