A love song made visible. Rain on terraced houses. A woman steps outside and doesn't come back in. She walks through traffic, past a cyclist, past everything that should make her turn around. This was made for the person you can't stop thinking about. The one you'd write something for just so they'd know — even on the days they forget — that the weight doesn't win. The city carries on. She carries on harder. It's okay to cry. The rain doesn't care and neither should you. The victory was never getting through it dry. The victory is still being here. The imperfect moments are where the clarity lives. You'll be alright.