Her words didn't just hang in the humid air; they acted as a key, turning a lock in a door .
Another memory surfaced.
Leon was ten years younger, standing on a sun-drenched balcony in the upper city.
The smell of coffee drifted up as he tilted his head toward the sky, watching the solar eclipse like everyone else.
The moon crept slow and inevitable across the sun's face, and the city hushed around him.
Millions of people looked up at the same moment, sharing the same silence. There was something almost holy about it.
Then the darkness came.
Expected. Natural. The corona flared at the edges like a crown of white fire, and someone a few balconies over started clapping. Leon smiled into his coffee cup.
Then the first drop hit his forearm.
He looked down. Clear. Odorless. He assumed it was rain. A second drop struck his cheek, then a third hit the rim of his cup.
Then the sky opened.
