So that night when it rained immediately after they ended up doing what they shouldn't have even thought of doing, considering that he had a faithful girlfriend and she a loving boyfriend, he heaved a sigh of relief as he rolled over. "Do you hear that? It's raining," he whispered. She clung to him like a child. "It's raining," he whispered again, straining all the muscles in his throat. She merely nodded and kept running her finger on his chest.
What's she scribbling on my chest, he wondered. Is it one of those geometrical figures you tend to scribble while you are nervous? Or was she scribbling his name or initials? Or was it her boyfriend's? Perhaps, she was practising her own signature? He tried to figure her finger movements for a while and then fell asleep. He woke up seven years later. A pretty woman had a hand and a leg over him. He removed the hand and leg carefully, so as not to wake her up, and walked across the hall to get the morning papers.