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Title: Looks Like Rain
Author: kaleko (SilverAg@hotmail.com)
URL: http://home.dal.net/`Datura/ttmp.htm
Disclaimer: The woman in this fic doesn't belong to me, she 
belongs to Marvel. This story is solely for entertainment 
purposes, therefore I am making no money off of it. Please don't 
use and/or archive this without asking me first, for the sole 
reason I like to know where my stuff is. Feedback and/or 
criticism can be sent to SilverAg@hotmail.com :)

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She had been sitting at the table, quietly sipping her Lipton's tea, 
eyes focused and waiting. Waiting for what? For something.

He made gestures at her from across the courtyard in what 
qualified as the center of the little town. She didn't see him, or 
she didn't care to see him; most likely the latter.

Her white hair was combed neatly back and held in a bun by two 
very small daggers cris-crossed. They didn't even look like they 
were sharp enough or large enough to cut a sandwich. Maybe 
they were fancy can openers, he thought with amusement.

A strong wind came flying through the courtyard, but she 
seemed unphased, despite the way her plastic bottle of tea fell 
over. A hand reached out calmly to pick it up and set it back in 
place before it rolled off the table.

She looked bored, but still patient. Still waiting for something in 
the northern sky.

A plane? Was she waiting to see a plane fly overhead, maybe 
one carrying a relative or a friend? Maybe she observed stars, 
and something would happen that only someone who set out to 
view it could see.

He looked away, and when he looked back, she was gone.

He was reminded of so many action movies -- where had he last 
seen someone disappear like that? A Batman movie? Maybe a 
commercial? He couldn't remember. He had a very bad memory.

He tried to look subtle as he glanced frantically around for her. 
Ah. There she was, in the small deli to the left of her table-area. 
What was she buying? An... umbrella?

He looked up at what had been the clear blue sky only moments 
before. It was now black, with darker and darker clouds coming 
closer, from the north.

She went back to her table and threw away the empty tea bottle 
and the half-eaten sandwich she had bought. She buttoned up 
her coat as another cold breeze blew through the court yard, and 
opened her umbrella.

It snapped open and covered her only moments before the rain 
began to pour down. She smiled, turning to him. "Cumulus 
clouds. They may be white and 'fluffy', but they are... not signs of 
good weather ahead."

He watched as she strode down to the far end of the courtyard 
and around the corner. He looked down at his wet jacket in 
displeasure, and thought about how displeased his wife and 
neighbors would be about his third incorrect weather report that 
week.



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