The rain stopped just as I reached the bus stop

I was halfway through a thought about how no one ever remembers the exact moment the rain ends — it’s always too late, or too early — when it just… stopped. The bus hadn’t come yet, and for a second, I stood there in the damp silence, like the city had paused to catch its breath. I don’t know why that tiny thing stuck with me. Maybe it’s the kind of small thing that only matters when you’re not trying to make it matter.