Letters in the rain

Mia always loved the rain. It had a way of making the world feel softer, quieter, like a secret whispered between the sky and the earth. Every afternoon, she sat by the window of the little bookstore she owned, watching the raindrops race down the glass.

One rainy afternoon, a man walked in, shaking water from his dark hair. He was tall, with kind eyes and a hesitant smile. He wandered the aisles for a moment before approaching the counter.

"Do you have a book on... writing letters?" he asked.

Mia tilted her head. "Letters? Like, love letters?"

His smile widened, a little embarrassed. "Yeah. I... I've never been good with words, but I need to tell someone how I feel."

Something about the way he said it made her heart skip a beat. She found an old book of romantic letters and slid it across the counter. Their fingers brushed, and she felt a spark.

"Good luck," she said, trying to ignore the warmth in her cheeks.

Days passed, then weeks. The stranger returned often, always buying books, always lingering a little longer. They talked about poetry, the rain, and the kind of love that sneaks up on you when you least expect it.

Then one evening, just as the rain began to fall, she found an envelope tucked between the books on the counter.

Inside was a letter.