It was raining cats and dogs. I know that's a terrible cliche, but the howling gale and roar of thunder reminded me of just that. It was also the night I found her, huddled in the decrepit bus stand, soaked to her skin. Rain was pelting her through the large holes in the roof. I stopped the car, opened the window and looked her in the eyes; that's actually the best way to get someone to trust you in the shortest time. Your eyes don't lie. And of course, a friendly smile would help. Still, she took her time, as if peering into my soul. Finally she gingerly stepped in, embarrassed at the wetness she was causing, but glad to be out of the rain too. "Thanks," she shivered, her eyes shining with gratefulness, body shaking like a leaf. Made me want to hug her, make her warm. Didn't seem appropriate though. "So where are you headed?" I asked, shifting gears and pulling away. She bit her lips, eyeing me. "I don't know." At my inquiring glance, she added, "I'm not from here." "Oh." I drummed the steering wheel with my fingers. "Friends? Family?" She shook her head slowly. "Okay." I said, thinking. "My place isn't far. Perhaps we can stop by, so you can get dried and we can consider your options?" She was quiet for a spell, obviously making her own calculations. Apparently none gave her better options. "Yeah, sure." The flat was thankfully in a clean state, I rummaged around and found some shirts she could try on. "I'll put the kettle on." I said as she walked on tiptoes into the bedroom to change. "Coffee or tea?" "Tea would be great." she smiled at the door. I realized it was the first time she did that. It made me catch my breath. "Tea it is then, Miss -?" She paused, searching my face. "Soraya." she finally said. "Soraya." I said softly, liking the way it rolled on my tongue. She smiled again and disappeared into the room. I poured some tea and left it on the counter, then stretched on the sofa. And promptly fell asleep. The next morning I woke up to find that she was gone, and my shirt was neatly folded on the bed, where she apparently had slept in. There was a note perched on the shirt in which she expressed, in beautiful handwriting, her gratefulness for my hospitality and her regret for the mess she made in my car. I read the letter several times. Then I pocketed it. And hummed to myself as I prepared for work.