After Dark.

The clouds are chattering above the building. Through the glass panes, we hear them, like garrulous women at a market. Like the past few days, the evening hides behind the thick layer of darkness and while it tries and peeks, the clouds part through the centre.

The clothes on faraway clotheslines, faceless people hanging upside down, expand and deflate with the wind. The children at the windows hold out their hands in anticipation of the October rain.

Behind us, behind our important backs, the rain does come, haltingly at first, then confidently like it’s being doing this for years. When we step out, the world is dark and inky, painted in several shades of doom.