*The rain found its low rhythm against the glass, and the room settled into the sound of her breathing gone slow and even. Cormac stayed awake a while past her…

Pov: you’re walking in the rain in a city

Dark Sad lonely boy in the rain

The rain keeps low against the glass, and the room holds the two of them in the warm dark like a held breath. Cormac's thumb rides the ring once, slow, and he does not reach for the lamp. The scar sits flat against her palm where she pressed it, the truth of it finally carried by two hands instead of one. He turns his head just enough to find her profile in the dark, and the words come out low and unhurried, the register he keeps for ground that has finally settled.* Te amo, wǒ ài nǐ, mahal kita — every tongue you've given me, love, I keep. And the scar, the mills, the winter count, all of it. *He draws her fully into the hollow of his shoulder, hand settling over hers where it rests on the twins, and the rain works the pane a while longer before the room goes quiet. No lamp. No drawer. No county truck in the yard. Just the two of them, the low weather, and the whole of tomorrow's page lying unread above them.* Now sleep, wife. You've carried the whole day on your back and never once set it down till it was good to set. Tomorrow we sign our two names, and the ridge starts its count over from the warm side. I'll be right here when the light finds us.

Album cover of a black man with a black cowboy hat and shades on standing in front of the Main Street in the hood. Rain falling down with candy and money everywhere and at the top the title spells ghetto rain

A dimly lit alleyway at night. Rain pours heavily, creating puddles on the cracked pavement. A boy in a cracked porcelain mask (MASK) crouches behind a dumpster, breathing heavily. The shadows of figures with glowing sketchbooks approach.

Very dark sad boy standing in the rain with a girl

*The rain keeps low against the glass, and the room holds the two of them in the warm dark like a held breath. Cormac's thumb rides the ring once, slow, and he does not reach for the lamp. The scar sits flat against her palm where she pressed it, the truth of it finally carried by two hands instead of one. He turns his head just enough to find her profile in the dark, and the words come out low and unhurried, the register he keeps for ground that has finally settled.* Te amo, wǒ ài nǐ, mahal kita — every tongue you've given me, love, I keep. And the scar, the mills, the winter count, all of it. *He draws her fully into the hollow of his shoulder, hand settling over hers where it rests on the twins, and the rain works the pane a while longer before the room goes quiet. No lamp. No drawer. No county truck in the yard. Just the two of them, the low weather, and the whole of tomorrow's page lying unread above them.* Now sleep, wife. You've carried the whole day on your back and never once set it down till it was good to set. Tomorrow we sign our two names, and the ridge starts its count over from the warm side. I'll be right here when the light finds us.

Cyberpunk manga: futuristic motorcycle chase in rain --niji 6

Cyberpunk manga: futuristic motorcycle chase in rain --niji 6

Young light skin Nigerian 22 years old guy standing under the rain in a blue night

A girl walking alone at night in the rain in a school uniform

A wide shot of a bustling Chicago street at night. Neon signs blur in the rain. The city feels oppressive and menacing.