The storm lit up the clouds. The dark blue sky turned into a musky light gray. Lightning strikes reached from the left to the right like tree branches. But then another strike would grow out smaller, barely reaching out, after that big moment. That last strike is me.
My university is always quiet when people leave and that’s when you notice things. You’ll find broken, empty branches, hiding behind the leaves. Or the discolored rock that has been there for at least five years and will be there for another ten. You’ll notice black paint peeling off the railing because the school only … Continue reading Quiet now, pay attention