For a moment nothing happened. Then from a speaker on the van, a piano note threaded through the drizzle. It was not from a broadcast but from the street itself, as if the city had accepted the install and offered its own soundtrack. Anaïs tucked her phone away and walked into the rain, letting the message dissolve like salt into water, content that some lines are meant to be both found and left unread.
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Anaïs Amore — BBC in the Rain
