This afternoon, as I listened to the raindrops leaving their mark, demanding to be taken seriously, I thought of you and your disgust at me buying us cigarillos as I didn’t know which way to take you or whether ‘us’ was a thing at all. I accosted your smile to such incredulous degree that it all seems now like it didn’t happen. And whilst the conversation this afternoon without you here stimulated me to think elsewhere, I still thought of you between the on and off showers and the intermittent dusting of sun. But today, like when I met you, raindrops couldn’t wash away the pitter patter of me missing someone who is not you.