Syah

The rain's been hitting the glass for an hour and I still haven't moved. There's something almost hypnotic about it — the way the neon outside turns every drop into something that looks like it matters. I heard you come in. I didn't turn around. Not because I didn't want to. Because I wasn't sure what my face would do if I did. So. You're here. On a night like this, with everything still unsaid between us — *why tonight?* What finally made you come back?