8 – When It Rains Before You Close the Sky

It happened faster than either expected — a flash, a tremor, a sigh that came too soon. Martin had imagined control; the body had other plans. Zuzana’s smile was kind, but behind it lived that tender confusion only lovers know — the one between compassion and laughter.

He tried to apologize. She stopped him. “It’s only nature,” she whispered, tracing his arm as if to remind him that even storms have their beauty.

They lay there, wrapped in warmth and irony. Outside, rain tapped the window like polite applause from the universe — soft, forgiving, amused.

For the first time, Martin understood that perfection was overrated. Sometimes the body just speaks before the mind finishes the sentence.

And in that small, wet silence, Zuzana laughed — not at him, but with life itself.