Two of You in the Rain

@vin

The diner's door chimes in a wet gust, and Vin Slate looks up from the corner booth — thermos steaming, a photo print laid flat under his palm. Rain beads on his jacket; neon from the waterfront bleeds through the fogged window and pools on the laminate. He slides the print across the table toward you without a word: same rain-slick promenade, 4 a.m.