The rain had started that morning, not in a rush but as something gradual, as if the sky had needed time to make up its mind. It wasn’t the kind of downpour that sent people running or forced umbrellas open like shields. It was a gentle, steady rainfall. A soft insistence that lingered in the air and darkened the sidewalks, painting the city in deeper shades of itself. By noon, everything was wet and quiet. Not silent, but hushed. As though the rain had given the day permission to slow ...