A woman stood in the doorway, a faint light in the background outlining her form. She inclined her head, as if she would speak, but no words came, except a low, drawn-out sigh that, pitifully, faded with time. I heard the drop of a tear on the floor. She turned, her countenance concealed in shadow. A step forward and then another. "My love," she said, her voice touching the corridors of memory. I rose from the bed. She took a step closer. "Why do you weep? Our child needs you."—I said her name—"Shh," was her only response, placing a finger on my lips. Now I felt her in my arms; smelt the faint scent rising from her skin; felt the tenderness and swelling passion of her heart. Now she was fading; I clutched sadly, but resignedly, knowing the outcome, and the form melted away into the mists of time. I kissed her hand, softly, whispering her name; she faded and was gone. Despair took me and no sleep came.

Andrew lives in totalitarian City-9, where the rain never ceases, running a bookshop with his daughter and struggling to make ends meet. All goes on its usual dreary course, until a mysterious woman, whom trouble seems to follow, appears out of nowhere.

(Some content not suitable for children.)