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Summary
Jon squints up at the block of apartments. The sky behind it is dark grey, threatening rain. Some of the windows are lit, and some of them aren’t. Tim lives in Flat 15, according to his employee records, so pretty high up.
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There’s a cat staring out of a ground-floor window. Looking straight at him. It looks just like the Admiral, ginger and fluffy. It meows, silent, and puts one of it’s paws up onto the glass.
Jon smiles at it, thin and thready. “Hello,” he says, though there’s no way the cat can hear him over the storm.
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“Seatbelt,” Basira says. Jon reaches up, pulls the belt across his chest, clicks it into place. Safe and sound. Basira turns the key, and the headlights light up. It’s raining, a low patter against the roof of the car as they pull away.
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Jon’s not sure what the proper procedure is, when waiting for your coworker to blind herself. Outside, beyond the reinforced glass doors, rain hammers into the pavement.
-Jon tightens his grip on Martin’s hand. It’s soft, a little damp, the fingers slightly curled inward. “Not much further,” he says.
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Five unrecorded moments. It's always raining somewhere.