and without much provocation
the cloud burst overhead, lent so weary to its own weight
the small boy froze, gripping the handle of someone else's umbrella so tightly that his knuckles turned white, quietly trying to assure himself that he could survive
until the rain would calm to a gentler drizzle
though, that was not the case as soon as imagined, as the heavy pour droned on amaranthine, despite best hopes and wishes, and the soft, shaken murmurs of a song pleading it to retire for... some indefinite amount of time
so he settled under a nearby storefront, sitting damp and cold,
biting his fingernails and tensing as he waited for the sobering flashes, the booming clacks of spring thunder that were sure to round the horizon as the storm made its way, and...
crash! bam!
he quickly lowered his head, recoiling and pulling his knees to his chest.
he supposed this was it, this was how he would die.
crash! bam!
he let out a low sob
and in a single moment, quite like the faint visions of life played out tauntingly in front of eyes in the moments just before death,
he recalled kicking his brother and making him cry
he recalled taking the juice box and not saying "thank you"
and he recalled affirming to his mom, after her rigid instruction, that, yes, he would be back before it would start to rain.
who used to be afraid of thunderstorms
