The Cold Air And The Death Of Thunder And Count For The Flash Lightning

1579 WordsApr 30, 20167 Pages
His bag laid heavy on his lap on the bus, grounding him to the seat as he looked out to the overcast sky. Water droplets trailed the window of the bus, creating thick streaks, and temporarily distorting the view where they ran. The clouds were roiling, bubbling with a purple tint, and the sky above the city was yellow, the eminent light of the skyline latching to and holding on to the rain. Steve could feel the cold air through the glass on his right, and he briefly put his hand on it, absorbing the chill, raising goosebumps on the back of his neck, and leaving a foggy handprint when he took it off. A late May thunderstorm. Steve had no issues with thunderstorms, he remembered how his mother would take him outside during them to listen for the clap of thunder and count for the flash lightning; but, they were inconvenient. Walking from his stop to his apartment without an umbrella or hood left him soaked every time, and sacrificing his bag to hold over his head was far from worth it. So usually he shouldered the rain and let it fall into his face. He rolled his neck around, aching dully from a full day of being bent over drawing after drawing. Pulling out his phone, he checked the time: 5:45. A thunderclap churned out from the sky, perforating the thin glass of the bus and resonating in his ears. The Stranger was absent from the bus, and even though Steve had only seen him for the first time on Monday, he couldn’t help but wonder what may have happened. Perhaps that

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