Maria was walking on the streets of London, even though now she was known as "Mary". She's been here for a few months and she can't stop feeling nostalgic when it starts raining.
She loves rain, she always did , but not this type of rain, cold and random.
She stopped on a bench. The moon was not shining and the wind started to blow. Somehow in the air she could smell cinnamon...and that was strange. She was alone on the bench, everyone was inside...and the rain start pouring, heavily, random, cold and wet...but not the good kind of wet...
She's back...but not the same...
