After work, late, on Moss Hall Grove, the air smelt of pink flowers and rain. It’d been raining all day, and it was raining still, and by the time I got to the West Finchley Tube it’d gathered up somethin’ fierce. I crossed the bridge over the tracks to the southbound platform while the raindrops went splatter-splatter-platter. And maybe it’s because I’m in the middle of a Murakami and because I’ve been working on a manga exhibition, or maybe it’s because it was just what it was, all of a sudden tonight I was living in a Miyazaki world, golden halos around the streetlights, and me waiting for the cat bus.