DAMIEN'S POV
Friday the rain came. Heavy and sustained, the kind of November rain that arrived and meant it, the city outside the windows completely grey and moving. I woke to the sound of it at seven and lay listening for a while before Elara stirred.
She heard it immediately.
"Rain," she said.
"Yes."
"Good."
She turned over and went back to sleep.
I lay there and listened to the rain and looked at the ceiling and felt the particular quality of a day that had been given permission to be slow by the weather.
At eight she woke properly.
We stayed in bed longer than usual. Not sleeping. Just there, the rain doing its work outside, the room dim and warm. She talked about a dream she'd had, something involving the Vancouver gallery and a door that kept changing location, laughing at i
