A couple of elderly ladies under umbrellas turned round and tutted at the eighteen year old who looked as if she had just stepped out of a swimming pool with clothes intact. Her brown hair hung limply and stuck to her face and shoulders. She didn’t realise there was going to be this much rain when she stepped out that morning. She had just been to work and the sun had been shining all day. It was when she took no more than three small steps out of the cafe, did the rain come tipping down as if a bucket of water had been thrown at the young girl.
Èponine immediately began to shiver. “When I said I liked rain,” she looked up at the sky, seemingly talking to the god that she didn’t believe in. “I didn’t mean the fucking apocalypse!”