The rain came in thin threads, so soft that you saw it rather than heard it. It hung between the street lamps like torn curtains, making the air heavy, the streets dark and slick. Behind the Hall, where music had just been pounding against the walls, it smelled of cold metal and wet cardboard. Somewhere a loose sheet of metal rattled; a dog barked in the distance, short, nervous, as if it knew that today no one would answer.
Lina pulled her jacket tighter around her body and pressed her fingers into the pockets until she could no longer tell the cold from inside or outside. The neon light above the loading ramp flickered. Warmth, voices, and stomping feet still came through the door. She groped in the shadow for support and found only crumbling plaster.
"You saw something you shouldn't have seen."
