Whispers In the Rain

For three months, Elara had claimed the same corner table at Café Marrow, with the same chipped mug of earl grey beside a sketchbook that felt more like a diary than a portfolio. She was completing a drawing that she had been unable to finish. This was a drawing of someone she had never met, but that day was going to change her entire life for good. Rain was pouring outside the Café and the rain traced silver veins down the window. The café was fuller than usual, and she was deep into the shadow under her cup, her pencil moving in small, shy circles when a voice cut in "is this seat taken"? She looked up . He was tall, damp on the shoulders and holding a black cup of coffee he clearly had not paid for yet. His hair was dark and curling from the rain, and he looked like ha had not slept but was used to it. There was a scar, faint and silver, at the corner of his left eyebrow. Elara's first instinct was to shake her head in refusal but she did not because she just wanted to vanish from the place as she loved sitting alone. She managed a small nod and pointed towards the empty seat in front of her. He sat. He did not look her sketchbook which she immediately appreciated. " Hi, I'm Julian" he said . "Elara" she whispered but it was loud enough for him to hear. She resumed drawing but her hand was suddenly too aware of itself. Julian reached into his pocket and drew out a small silver locket. He thumbed it open, and something in his face softened, as if he had stepped into a warmer room. Elara caught a glimpse of a faded photograph before he snapped it shut and tucked it away. It was none of her business she thought to herself. Her pencil kept shading anyway. For a long time, the sat in parallel silence, two strangers sharing a table because the rain had stolen all other choices. Julian glances at her sketchbook and goes still, because the face she's been drawing belongs to someone she had never met. He looks like he knows exactly who she is. Elara tried to go back to painting but she kept feeling his gaze on her sketchbook. After about twenty minutes, without a word, he said, "you're being too kind to it." "Pardon?" her voice was too loud. "The drawing" He emphasized. You are making it softer than it is, Real shadows are always sharper and they have edges." Elara stared down and he was right. She always did that. She softened everything. She could not help it. "I do not like harsh things." she admitted. It was strange, honest things to say to a stranger that her cheeks flushed pink and her ear flickered red. Julian finally looked up, and he smiled. It was a slow smile, like it had to travel a long way to his face. " Maybe it likes being soft for once," he said. "Maybe, it is just tired of being harsh." Something in her chest, some extra tight knot she had carried just liss