The Paroles Of JK

When it happened, Maria was indoors. The storm had been growing for some time, thick, heavy clouds squatting low over the city. She pressed her fingers to the glass. It was cool against the fleshy pads. Far away lightning flashed, soundless now. Maria counted. She’d reached four before the rumble vibrated through her fingertips, up her arm, into her heart.

Maria took her fingers from the glass. Another flash of lightning and her fingertips silhouetted against the clouds. Storms used to scare her. They still did, if she was outside. But here, within the warmth of her flat, there was no fear. There was no need to be afraid.

Of course nobody is ever afraid because they need to be. If you are scared, you simply are, working out the wherefore is something for people who have the time. But for now the storm was outside, and Maria was inside, and for now those are the only two sides that matter.

When Maria went to sleep thirty minutes later, she could only count two between light and sound. In her dreams, the lightning still flashed and the thunder rolled and crashed. She whimpered as she slept. There was no inside or outside in the dreamscape. There was only the storm; the darkness overhead, and the sudden brightness that illuminated a shape that was all at once by her shoulder and far away. It was hard to judge distance, here.