“You know what I miss? Thunder,” he mutters. “Seems like it only rains here.”
The two men lounge, watching television. His new apartment is sparse and empty—even with a roommate.
On television, a several teenagers take refuge in a creepy old house. As they explore the cobweb-laced house, a humorously fake storm shatters the darkness. When a bolt of movie lightning knocks out the power, they run around like headless chickens.
His roommate chuckles at their stock-character antics. “I know. Rainy days are fucking boring. Nothing to do with all the gloom and doom.”
“That’s for sure.”
Staring out the window, he takes a long pull from his beer.
“We should run around outside, sometime. Pretend were little kids again. Go splashing through puddles.”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
Her face floats into his memory. That time her nose was pressed to the bus window after their first date. Even with a squished nose, she was gorgeous. Now, her face is starting to fade away. The pain hasn’t diminished, though.
“Yep.”
: andy l. kubai : writer : 