Your gaze drifts to the the window. The one framed by worn, soft, red curtains.
People run outside. A song slowly fills your ears, something that will always take you back to this moment.
Rain falls down on the cramped street outside, and you are warm. The people huddle closely together.
Wrapped in each other as they squeeze under the umbrella. You smile.
You will always miss this. Anytime it rains, or when you hear a similar song. You will think of the rain in Paris.