And outside, the rain kept falling, but inside, it was the warmest, driest, and most wonderful place in the world.
"It's still night," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
"Maybe," Leo said, setting down his mug. He knelt beside her, his voice a low, cozy rumble. "Or maybe the rain is the sky's way of telling the earth, 'Hey, take it easy today. Stay in your pajamas. Drink something warm.'"
Maya took a bite of her pancake, her grumpiness melting away. "It's pretty," she admitted.
"Look," he said, pointing outside. The rain had softened to a mist. A single ray of sunlight, pale as a pearl, broke through a crack in the clouds and made the wet street shimmer like a river of silver.
Maya trudged over and pressed her forehead against the cool glass. She watched a lone robin fluff its feathers on the fence post. "The birds are all wet."