Hannah Elliott
Tornado Warning The wind chimes on the front porch dance as the sky turns gray, their singing rings in my ears as I raise my voice louder and louder to compete with the noise. “A storm is coming,” you say, as you look past me and out into the distance, but I wasn’t sure if you were talking about the weather or us. You swirl the dark liquid in your glass, the scowl on your face scaring me more than the thunder booming in the distance. I can never tell what’s going on behind your eyes, the color gets darker with the clouds and your gaze strikes me like lightning. That’s what got us yelling in the first place. The wind is picking up and I’ve stopped trying to hold a conversation. I’m tired of scratchy throats and raw voices, only for the chimes to drown me out. I turn my back to you, trying to catch my tears before they fall, but once the clouds open, you must empty them out. You either didn’t know or didn’t care that I knew you were sneaking around, and I didn’t know what hurt worse. Before I could change my mind, I took off running into the rain. The drops kissed away the doubts from my skin, reminding me that I should have left you all those years ago. There was some attempt of muffled desperation calling after me, but the only thing I heard were the wind chimes.
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