Rain agains the windows. Jokes that grow stale. Fights that are had under the guise of good humor. Thunder booms in the distance. Stinging wet bashes against the glass, all surfaces soaked. She wants to go outside, to stand in the full force of the storm. Amongst the danger of the elements lies a freedom she can only write about. A tornado warning remains for another 15 minutes, another round of playful jabs that sting to the bone. Laughter always about her, the end of all jokes. Returned humor results in scornful looks, and more laughter. Tears evoke giggles and fits of rage hysterics. But the rain, it takes her seriously. The storm knows her, better than those who call her family do. The wind knows her secerts, her well contained story, bursting to be told. Page after page, words she can't say and dialouge that will never occur.
The storm dies down, and the window of oppertunity fades away. With the all clear proclaimed through blaring speakers her escape has indeed escaped her.
