She wiped the leftover rain from the glass with longing in her eyes, and watched him watch her through the haze. The subdued colors of their souls are barred by this glass window. He fogged it up as much as his hot breath would allow, and drew a heart. She shook her head very slowly, then tilted her head. He went away, came back with a wet leaf. It had a lady bug on it. 'Luck,' she thought. He almost grabbed the pretty pretty bug (she thought), but it escaped, like most people and thoughts do. He looked at her through the glass again, his olive green coat trembling in the wind. She turned around, wondering what Klimt piece she wanted to show him. 'Water Serpents II,' she said to herself. She tore off the piece from her wall and held it up against the window. He leaned in, touched the color seeping through the rain drops. He looked up at her, her eyes glinted because of Klimt, he knew that. He had always known that.
He moved his hand away quickly though, for fear that the colors would bleed to death in this merciless weather they were having. His fingers were white, he had forgotten his gloves on a train somewhere. He looked back and Klimt was gone. Took her with him.