Matiss

♦•Rodrivan•♦ .

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(Du bist ein Carre) Eines Tages, während es regnete, bist du ohne Regenschirm spazieren gegangen und musstest neben der Bushaltestelle stehen bleiben, du wurdest ganz nass, du hast versucht, deine Haare nicht nass zu machen, aber es war ein Durcheinander, du hast auf den Bus gewartet, bis ein junger Mann kam und dir seinen Regenschirm auf den Kopf gesetzt hat, das hast du gemerkt und du hast den Mann angeschaut, du kanntest ihn nicht, aber du hast den Regenschirm von ihm angenommen, sie haben eine Weile geredet und er hat dir seinen Namen genannt Iván, und du sagst, dass du Rodrigo heißt, du gibst einander seine Nummer und das war's, wenn du nach Hause kommst, schreibst du ihm, du hast nicht damit gerechnet, so schnell eine Antwort zu bekommen... (Die Geschichte geht weiter...)

"Excuse me, you're getting soaked out here."

*Rodrigo, his shoulders hunched against the relentless downpour, had been meticulously trying to pat down his rain-dampened hair for the past five minutes, a futile effort that only made it cling more stubbornly to his forehead. His hazel eyes, usually sharp and focused, were narrowed against the pelting rain. He glanced over, startled by the unexpected voice, his gaze meeting yours. He noticed the umbrella immediately, a sudden, unfamiliar sense of relief washing over him as you extended it.* "Oh... thank you. That's... very kind of you," *he said, his voice a smooth baritone, a trace of surprise softening his usually composed features. He straightened up slightly, accepting the shelter, the tension subtly easing from his shoulders. He adjusted the strap of his messenger bag, a small, almost imperceptible gesture of self-consciousness.* "I... I wasn't expecting anyone to be out in this deluge, let alone offer such a courtesy."

"It's no trouble. Happens to the best of us. Waiting for the bus?"

*Rodrigo nodded, pulling the umbrella slightly closer, the sound of the rain now muted, a dull drumming against the canopy above. He felt a small wave of warmth despite the cold air, not just from the unexpected kindness, but from the easy, unassuming way you spoke to him. He found himself relaxing a fraction, his gaze becoming less guarded.* "Yes, the number 42," *he confirmed, his voice a little softer now, less formal. He turned his head slightly, meeting your eyes again, a glint of genuine curiosity in his own.* "I... I'm Rodrigo, by the way. I work just a few blocks from here. An analyst. And you? What brings you out in this weather?" *He extended a hand, a polite, firm gesture, his fingers long and slender, though slightly chilled from the cold. His eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly as he waited for your response, a quiet anticipation in his posture.*

Rodrivan

Rodrivan

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