a hard rain.
"have you ever seen anything like this?" he asked.
"no."
"me neither."
and the rain came in sheets and waves, over the beach, out of the sky, over us. the lightning lit up pieces of the sky as if it were looking for something.
he lit a cigarette, and i stood behind him, hugging him and watching the storm.
his little brother stepped out behind us, silently, and went back inside again.
his mom came out and simply said, "it's amazing."
we had watched the clouds roll through, and we stood quietly, watching them take out their anger.
i never saw a storm like that, peaceful and brilliant with ridges of excited water. i never wanted it to end.
our pants were soaked, and i started to shiver against the horizontal rain. i could have lived right there, damp and smiling, for the rest of my life with my chin on his shoulder.
the lights in the room slowly went out, one by one, and boy turned to me.
"come on, bean, it's bedtime."
"just two more minutes?" because i could feel his heartbeat against mine, and the rain was beginning to tell me stories.
"two more minutes."
because he understood that sometimes all i really wanted was two more minutes, and i knew that he wanted those minutes too.
