It plays in the background, and we listen.
In the middle of the interview, she tells him, “It’s okay to cry.” I don’t expect him to take her up on the offer.
Clouds form from the cumulative experiences of life. Cumulative clouds. Cumulo nimbus. A recognizable sound escapes my laptop speakers. Is it rain or merely a drizzle? They are inside.
We are inside, too, but a couple drops land on my cheeks. It’s only a drizzle. I get back to work.