#dusk $DUSK #gop

Rain arrived without warning, tapping rooftops like curious fingers. Streets softened, dust vanished, and the city paused. Vendors pulled tarps, children chased puddles, and the air learned how to breathe again. Windows fogged with quiet thoughts. Somewhere, a train sighed, carrying stories between stations. The sky stitched gray threads across afternoon light, forgiving yesterday’s heat. Leaves applauded gently. Time slowed to a listening pace. In that brief wet hour, worries diluted, plans rested, and hope felt practical—small, cool, and steady, like water finding its way home. Night came softly, umbrellas folded, hearts warmed, and streets remembered footsteps long after rain.