A stranger at the end of the bar nodded toward him, a silent gesture of solidarity among the heartbroken. "Heavy rain tonight, huh?" the stranger asked.
The neon sign of the roadside bar flickered, casting a bruised purple light over the empty bottles on the table. Outside, the Sertão heat had finally broken, replaced by a sudden, violent downpour. Tierry - Chovendo na Minha Bochecha part. Jorge...
He sat alone, staring at his phone. The screen was dark, but he could still see the ghost of the last message he’d sent: “Are you really not coming?” No reply. A stranger at the end of the bar