"Every time," Leo whispered. He scooped her up, blanket and all, and she felt like a warm loaf of bread in his arms.
Leo stood by the window, a mug cradled in his hands, watching the rivulets race each other down the glass. He wasn't a morning person, but rainy mornings were the exception. They felt like a secret the world was sharing just with him. good morning wishes rainy day
"Maybe," Leo said, setting down his mug. He knelt beside her, his voice a low, cozy rumble. "Or maybe the rain is the sky's way of telling the earth, 'Hey, take it easy today. Stay in your pajamas. Drink something warm.'" "Every time," Leo whispered
The rain was a steady, soft symphony against the windowpane, a gentle tap-tap-tapping that made the world outside look like a watercolor painting left out in the dew. Inside, the kitchen was warm, smelling of coffee and the faint sweetness of pancakes. He wasn't a morning person, but rainy mornings
Leo kissed the top of her head. "Good morning, Maya," he said.
He carried her to the window seat, where a small radio was playing a soft, jazzy tune. He poured her a tiny cup of warm milk with a dollop of honey, and handed her a pancake shaped like a lopsided bear.