As she sat, alone, in the kitchen of her childhood home, gazing blankly across the familiar space of the room, tapping the heels of her feet on the grey stone tile, the audible tick of the second-hand mimicked the internal click of time passing in her mind when she sat in the library just days ago, humming with nervous energy, frowning at the slow-chapped stubbornness of the computer screen, crowded by the sound of furious typing. It must have been for just a moment. The rustling of bags and the apparition of warm faces brought her back. The faint light of the afternoon filtered through the clouds, passing through the grates of the screen door and illuminated her soft smile.
A peal of thunder rang through the air. She tilted her head slightly, shrouding her right eye with long locks of hair, listening intently for the sound of droplets, counting the moments between each strike. One. Two. Three. Four. The second peal brought rain, and with it, a euphoric shiver from the base of her skull down the keys of her spine. She took her sister by the hand and rushed out the door as fast as her legs would carry--into the street, down the road--until she reached a darkened meadow. Here, she took off her shoes and carried them as she strode barefoot into the field. She felt the blades of grass bend with each step, the thirsty soil sated with light drink, the crackling energy above. As she lifted her head towards the sky, she closed her eyes; it was just as she remembered--the warmth in the air mingling with the drops of rain, the earth beneath her feet. And as she stood perfectly still amidst the sound of spring showers, just for a moment, she thought she felt the same rain from many years ago, underneath the same sky.