Once we were walking together, under the blocks, when thunder slammed its fists onto the earth around us. I flinched and clapped my palms over my ears, but when I turned to look at you, I found that you didn't even react. There were many things you could've done in response, many things I could've wrote to replace that single word "react", but you just kept walking. Was it a hallucination? How did you not jump? Did you feel scared, just a little? I asked you the last bit, and you told me you weren't afraid of thunder, that you liked storms.

I imagined you treading across clouds like they were stepping stones, rain falling from the ones your feet touched; lightning scorching holes in grass and concrete with a single snap of your fingers. There was no way someone could acknowledge thunder's presence without starting, or scrambling to cover their ears, or dropping whatever is in their hands. In the little corners of my mind, you were a goddess of the tempest.

-

to loh lin.