At work, when it rains, I wander in a trance. Eyes tethered to the windows as if by strings. Shivering with delight at every rush of downpour, every thundersound.
People ask for more coffee; I stand halfway to the coffee pot, an empty mug hanging idle from my fingertip, and look out into the storm until something, someone, jolts me back to reality.
It’s a crime to look away from the windows.
My whole body aches to run out through those glass doors, dance in it, get soaked to the skin and not care.
But I don’t, for some reason.
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