He wished the rain would stop. Oh, how he wished the rain would stop. 'We need to talk.' He remembered saying it to her. He remembered that it was raining at the time. They were in the cafe. It was just after the storms that blew his heart into the thorns in a dear catastrophe. 'Waitress', he called for coffee. He tried to be rational. If she wants me, she'll call me; she'll call me when she finishes travelling, perhaps from that Piazza, New York. Catcher of his heart, found asleep on a sunbeam. He laughed inwardly at their first conversation. His memories stung, he prevaricated. 'I'm a cuckoo' he called as he ran towards the door, and suddenly he was brought back to the rain. Her words were cruel. 'You don't send me', she said, 'You're to wrapped up in books, like a little Lord Anthony'. He fought back the tears as she left and the rain fell. If you find yourself caught in love, he thought, make sure that they love you back. Her new love was Roy Walker. She looked over her shoulder at his pained face. 'Stay loose', she said and left.