Surfacing

She heard the thunder just before the first raindrop brushed her bare shoulder. Cloudless hazy skies and three days of triple digit temperatures, echoes and distant memories now as the sky filled up, turned gray, and the northern wind pressed her skirt tightly to her thighs. Everything shifted. A paper sack caught on the corner of a park bench whipped and screamed. Heavy wet scents washed over her, like the ocean, like the time she went to the water alone and stared into the endlessness.

“There is always another side.”

The second drop hit her eyelash, making her blink. Regardless of what he said about what was real, what she could never understand, she could feel this water on her face, smell it in the air, see it falling in front of her, perceive it. That was enough.

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About fenster

There are some who call me, Tim?

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