“It feels pretty tropical out there today, huh?” I nod and move around her at the Cumberland Farms coffee counter, trying to find something to sweeten my sorta-weak-but-free iced coffee.
She’s right though. Sunshine, warmth, sudden rain — not drizzly, cold spring rain, but huge, plopping drops. Rain that may become storms, leaving the air smelling like summer.
It’s still hard to resist joking about humid air I can breathe, to wear my Southern identity with the same pride my neighbors carry when they talk about winter. But I don’t. I’m too busy secretly wishing for a thunderstorm.
thunderstorms are the greatest, and in 100 words you've made me want for one too. i can taste the air you created.
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