The flash and the crack came together as a blinding, deafening mess. Night arrived, breaking the summer heat with a pounding of rain. Though it hadn’t reached my ears yet, I knew the rumble of thunder would soon break. It came suddenly, rolling up my spine and exploding over my head. Some things are like that–slow and then sudden and then gone.
Every time a thunderstorm forms on the other side of my window, I imagine rushing out to greet it.
I feel the thunder on my face and dare the sky to strike me. I hold my arms up and threaten the clouds with my fists. The rain soaks my shirt and washes the day’s grit from my hands. I scream until breathless. I gasp and blink, my head tilted toward the abyss above.
I am defiant and invincible.
This time I stayed inside.
After a few moments even the patter of rain on the window was subsumed by the gentle tapping of my typing. Occasionally the window alights, but the distant rumble can’t be heard over the AC.