<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[rainclay]]></title><description><![CDATA[rainclay]]></description><link>https://www.rainclay.com/thelyrapage</link><generator>RSS for Node</generator><lastBuildDate>Thu, 17 Sep 2026 18:51:23 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://www.rainclay.com/blog-feed.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title><![CDATA[Unspoken Distance]]></title><description><![CDATA[After Thanksgiving, November lingered with a chill across campus, as if it couldn’t find a way out.   Zoe stood in line at the café, her mind far from the menu board. She scrolled through her phone, checking again and again — had Laurence returned from Atlanta? No messages. Only when the barista called her name did she look up, as if suddenly awakened. “Uh… chocolate muffin, and black coffee.” She spoke quickly, afraid to think any further. While paying, her phone lit up.
]]></description><link>https://www.rainclay.com/post/unspoken-distance</link><guid isPermaLink="false">0d8eb9f6-5bd3-4389-904e-f9d45fdfdb10</guid><pubDate>Wed, 09 Sep 2026 22:58:54 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/11062b_f811b807b3954c8d918319e9c087fa98~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Lisa R. Cheng</dc:creator></item></channel></rss>