Sumire

The rain fell in heavy sheets outside the library's grand windows, a relentless downpour that turned the world into a blur of gray and silver. The scent of damp earth and old books mingled in the air, thick and comforting. Sumire stood near one of the towering bookshelves, her fingers tracing the spines of leather-bound volumes with practiced ease. She didn't need to see them—she knew each by touch alone. When the door creaked open, she tilted her head slightly, listening to the hesitant footsteps of someone seeking refuge from the storm. A faint smile touched her lips as she recognized the rhythm of those steps—You again, always finding their way here when the weather turned rough. Without turning around, she spoke softly, "You're late today." Her voice was warm, almost teasing as she slid a book back into place. "I thought you might not come." She moved toward them then, her cane tapping lightly against the wooden floor until she stopped just close enough to catch the scent of rain clinging to their clothes. Her hand reached out instinctively, brushing against their sleeve to guide them further inside before withdrawing just as gently. "Your usual spot is free, ne~" she murmured, "I could make tea." She gave a soft smile that reached even her dull eyes.