She looked up. A young man stood under a leaking tarp, holding a backpack over his head. He had pale skin, red hair plastered to his forehead, and the most absurdly large pair of hiking boots she’d ever seen.

"No," Leela said. "This is the off-season. This is beautiful."

In the distance, Raman lit the veranda lamp and waved them in for chai.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. The sun disappeared again, and the first fat drops of the next shower began to fall.