I Always Get Lost

It was pouring outside, but in my opinion it was only adding more beauty to the scene folding out. I was looking outside the window, but could feel that he was closely staring at me. Not in a judgmental way, more of the way you stare at a puzzle that has one piece missing. With curiosity, curiosity as to what the piece looked like, where it was, and why it wasn't where it was supposed to be.
My hands were wrapped around the cup in front of me, absorbing the heat. I look to him, give him a small smile, then look back down to my hands around the cup.
"You alright?", he asks.
"Yeah. Sorry, I always get lost."