I have seen that face in the rain.

Little rivulets running down the sides, warm and cold all at once. The melting black eyes, like cut up pieces of dark fruit, blinking away the raindrops.

I have walked behind that face, staring a little too obviously at the neck.
I have marveled, more than once, at the glistening tense muscles holding their own; the sliver of brown between the nape and the shirt collar peeking at me.

I have seen that face in the rain.
In the quiet privacy of my mind, I keep looking back at it. Like a child and a firecracker that holds all the mystery; awe and fear holding hands.