It started slowly at first, so slowly that Mia took no notice of the graying sky outside the office, or the few drops of water on the window next to her desk. She was immersed in her work at the typewriter when Chris walked into the room, and it wasn’t until his shadow fell across the desk that she looked up at him. He pointed toward the window. The rain was light, but steady. A faint wash of California sunlight still tinged the air, reflecting off the streaks of rain, making them shine like tinsel. “My God.” She stood up. “Well, I don’t know,” Chris said. “Is it God, or is it Jeff?” Mia looked out the rear window to see that it was raining to the south as well. She remembered Jeff’s restlessness the night before, his disinterest in making love, his preoccupation with his papers and his calculator. He had left the cottage very early this morning, long before sunrise. “Jeff,”
