She said it again: It's been raining all day. The bookfaces turned morose and the people echoed in their readings, blank mumblings in the darkened shop. The gramophone man came in at 5 o'clock but was listening to the cars treading water. She took out her purpose and climbed the ladder to reach for copies of a paperback that needed replenishing. She slid the stack back into place and stopped to rest. The gramophone man did not look up and she could not come up with a specific reason why he should leave his own empty echoing room. On a day like this there was no sound that could be forced open, though her crowbar heart pivoted away from its loneliness.