He sat on the front porch, smoking a cigarette. He always did that when it rained. It was coming down in buckets. There was no thunder, or lightning. Just rain. A deluge. She stepped out onto the porch with him. Stood there. Wished for thunder and lightning, to quiet her chaotic mind. Storms had always soothed her. She didn’t say anything, which was unusual. She always had a smile, and something to say. She stood there and looked out at the puddles forming on the blacktop. On the side walk too. She turned, looked at him. She said, I’m leaving. He said, I’m not surprised. Said he’d heard her say it before. Twice. He asked her, why? She looked away and said nothing. For a woman who was always quick with a joke, advice, or a dirty retort, she just stood there. Speechless.
Instead she walked down the steps, into the rain. Let it pour all over her. Felt it run down her body, drenching her to the skin. She felt her love for him leave her and reconnect with the earth. From where it originated. She wondered if she would ever feel at peace again. She wished to be anywhere but here. In the distance, she heard thunder. She felt a thrill and the hair stood up on her arms. She knew that the lightning wasn’t too far behind. Her mind slowed. Her body was drenched. She prepared for the impending storm.