Delia regretted what she’d said to Henry earlier. How she never wanted to see him again. Henry who looked dismayed when told, replied contrarily. Red weather wouldn’t stop her running after to apologise for the hurt she caused. She scanned the crowd for his distinguishable white linen jacket, panickedly. Fortunately she eyed him from across the city street, about to round the corner. She cried out, though he didn’t hear. She continued pontificating, crossing the street, until finally Henry heard, and turned. Both smiled, staring faces, and Henry began toward Delia enclad a pretty pink dress, when a sedan encroached.