They were walking on the left side of the road, watching the cars that moved in a slow motion; a hundred faces with a hundred different stories.
It was almost a hot day.
He wore a striped jacket and she accused him for stealing it from a zebra; and they laughed at her lame jokes, his unamusing puns, and their unbelievably dry sense of humor.
The pavements were filled with nothing but giggles, and yellow, and pink.
But she was wondering
Why did it feel like she was ten feet under the water, grasping for air---drowned in a pitch black sea?

"What if," She whispered.
"What if summer remains the same and the sun shines too fondly that rain makes no sense at all?"
They stared at the coffee table, letting the words float between the air--and the question marks.
"What then?"
There was only silence.