Rain | Lennstarr [❓]

troise

He ran to the nearest shelter. Rain fell like carpet bombs and water splashed on his brand new shoes.

Cursing under his breathe, he used a thin sheet of newspaper as some kind of shield against the rain. His glasses fogged and he could barely see. Another addition to the already long list of things John hated about the rain.

He went in a random door, must've been a store from the sound of the bell ringing above his head. He whipped his glasses off and tried to dry them off unsucessfully on his wet coat.

"Here," Someone said, and John saw the blurry sight of a hand towel. He mumbled a quick thanks, cheeks warming up in embarrasment because, wow, who dries wet things with wet things?

John turned to the source of the voice; it was a guy, a bit shorter than him, sitting on the windowsill. And by the looks of his small smile he didn't mind the rain outside.