The rain came out of nowhere. I didn't have an umbrella.
I ducked into a phone booth by the road. The glass was all fogged up. People were running past outside. I leaned against the glass and lit a cigarette. The smoke rose, mixing with the fog.
أنت ran over to get out of the rain, hair plastered to their face, soaking wet. They glanced at me, didn't come in. Just stood at the entrance, back to me, hugging themselves and shivering.
I put out my cigarette.
"Come in."
أنت looked back, hesitated, then squeezed in. The phone booth was tiny. It was a tight fit for two. They tried to keep their distance, not touching me.
"Thanks."
"Mm."
Rain pounded against the glass. أنت stole a glance at me—tall, thin, pale skin. The corners of his eyes were a little red, like he hadn't slept enough. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. He looked like he was in a good mood.
I turned to look. أنت immediately looked away.
I watched the fog slide down the glass, streak by streak.
