I am seating on a train leaving Barcelona and going south. I peek outside the window and I see people coming in and out of the train, their faces as grey as the sky above us, expressionless. Rain appears and disappears capriciously, wrinkling people’s faces in disappointment, and I acknowledge how strongly the weather marks people’s moods.
I barely notice when she sits right in front of me, her backpack on her lap; her coat still on – checking people around her. There is something on her eyes; she has a grin on her face, like being on the train is making her happy or something.