turned my head and i looked outside the window. class was in session but i didn't try to be discreet. i couldn't help it. i felt its pull and i gave in. the thunder roared and i closed my eyes for a moment. feeling its sound. its strength. i watched the rain. a curtain in the wind. sheets of water swaying. i was filled with an inexplicable sadness. i wondered if it showed on my face and it probably did but i had turned away only for a few seconds and i was relieved that no one noticed and, if they did, no one asked me to return myself to the class. what i really wanted to do was drag my chair to the windows and sit facing them. watching the thunderstorm. i do not know what it touches in me. it invites me to join in its display of waterworks. i try not to. i usually succeed. storm. storm... i love that word.
their thick vacant congruity said much more than they wanted to
unbridled bodies belied the nonchalance of their words
they didn’t mean for us to see the sparks
he touched her on the arm