It's that golden hour when the sky explodes with colors, painting a breathtaking canvas as the sun dips below the horizon. The air is thick with the scent of, and in your hands, you cradle a perfect mango, its flesh bursting with summer's taste. As chilled hop beats drift through the atmosphere, each note vibrates with the beat of your heart.

A gentle pitter-patter against the glass is the only sound that pierces the quiet of the evening. The glowers cast a yellow light upon the damp asphalt, warping familiar forms into something eerie. Each pellet that catches a filament of light glistens, creating a thousand tiny spectacles. The air resonates with the gentle sound of the rain, calming