Thunder rumbles. Lightning spikes. Cold rain pelts trampled grass, floods gutters, grounds kites, and confines boys, girls, and dogs to too-small houses where they press noses to windows and fog double-paned glass with playful hopes and pent-up energy. Eager bodies impatient for drier days fidget as numberless gray drops transform ditches to mirrors.
Thanks, Justin, for the prompt a while back on Fifties by the Fire, where the first version of this story saw the light.
Photo by Kenny Eliason on Unsplash
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