I've been trying to write myself out of a block, and re-found a much loved photograph of Melina aaaand the rest is (very recent) history.
Slide this into anywhere, really. Any season. (Part of me wants it to be set around the recent news re: Bin Laden...)
To say it was raining would have been an understatement. It was torrential. Close to the kind of rain he'd seen whilst stationed abroad, crouched in a trench, every breath sending droplets spraying from his mouth and nose.
Except he was more appropriately dressed for the weather when he was a Marine. His only defence against the unrelenting downpour currently was the upturned collar on his sodden, heavy, winter coat. His head was ducked, a stream of water sliding down his nose and down the back of his neck, the white shirt beneath now cold and stuck to his body.
To say he was cold would have been an understatement, but he was past shivering now. He was numb against the onslaught, his feet sinking into puddle after puddle as he walked.
The pools of light from street lamps highlighted the shining shoes of people running past him, bumping into him as they searched for cover.
It was dark, but he didn't need light to know his path. It was a well travelled one. A well known series of roads and turns that eventually led him through the park and back home.
He kept walking, his mind finally silent.
He blinked. The pattering of the rain suddenly turned hollow, the staccato rhythm no longer pounding onto him, the sight of black, pointed stilettos suddenly stepping in time at his side.
"You can be so predictable, you know?" she said quietly with a small smile, her fingers wrapped around the curved handle of a large white umbrella. She was dry save for the bottom of her black trousers and where she'd sat on the side of the fountain, waiting for him.
He slowed to a stop and looked to her, rubbing a hand down his face and flicking away the water.
She held out a handkerchief which he took gladly, drying the back of his neck and around to his face again. She wiped a hand over his hair, dislodging the little pearls of rain sitting on each strand.
He pulled his lapels tighter around himself as an almighty shiver suddenly caught up with him and shook through his body. She sighed lightly, her head tilting to the side as she bit her lip, wondering what she could do for him, how she could help him.
"Come on," she whispered, wrapping an arm around his. She changed his path, pulling him towards her apartment that was just a few blocks away.
He fell into step with her without a word.