“They waited.The door did not open.The rain did not stop.The darkness made a tent and covered them completely.”

“It always rains on tents. Rainstorms will travel thousands of miles, against prevailing winds for the opportunity to rain on a tent.”

“Holy shit," somebody muttered in the dark."A virgin," sputtered another."I didn't know they still made them.""He just did.”

“He crossed the stage, pushed the bench back and sat, hands resting on the keyboard cover. After a moment, he took off the cloth, and uncovered the keyboard. He rested his fingers on the keys, but didn’t depress them, simply sitting there for a moment, in the dark and silent auditorium, and closed his eyes. He belonged here. Not on a stage, but with a piano. It was the only place he felt alive. The groupies, the concerts, the strangely worshipful perks of fame, none of them made him feel complete like these moments alone did.”

“Her eyes scanned the dark skies. "Did it rain? Why are you all wet?""A nighttime bath.""Fully dressed?""I'm modest.”

“That night it did not rain as much in the sky as it did in his heart.”