The sudden pour of the grey rushed many into the cafe, crowding the already evening rush. The same old climate, the same old people, the same old routine thought the wrinkled lady by the counter, waiting for a good old thunder and the next scene to happen. For she loved the jolt of the thunder and the hands that come searching for her because of it. Something dragged her from memories of years or a two someones. The girl and her mum were busy hissing at one...