Storm

1

The summer sun was not meant for boys like him.

The heavy air was not meant for him, or the long days and short nights. The light filtering in through his open window was not what he wanted. The bright mornings and slightly chilly afternoons were not made for boys like him. He did not belong with long beach days and even longer campfires and bonfires. He did not belong with carnivals and cotton candy and Ferris wheels that stop at the top just before the sun goes down and paints the sky beautiful colours of red and orange and gold. The summer sun and all her beauty was not meant for him.

Boys like him belonged in the rain.

He existed in the moments between one thunderclap and the next, between the first flash of lightning and the second. He stood underneath the angels as they struck him with everything they had and by the time they were done, he was soaking wet and smiling maniacally. He had hair plastered to his forehead and clothes sticking to his skin and water-clogged shoes and a racing pulse.

The cold, windy dark nights were meant for boys like him. The harsh breeze that whipped raindrops at his face and turned his ears red was what he craved. The earthy scent and the sidewalk puddles and the soft dirt was made for boys like him.

He was a tornado and he stormed his way into her life just as quickly as he stormed out. And just like a tornado he left death and destruction in his wake.

Too bad the summer sun was not meant for hurricanes like her either.