On rainy days, at dawn, I go do my laundry. There’s no particular reason. Outside, the rain makes everything damp and humid, but inside, the fresh scent of laundry fills the air—I like that. It’s another rainy day. I arrive at the laundromat, waiting for my laundry to finish, when she walks in. Every time it rains at dawn, she comes too. Just like me, on the same kind of day.