I was meant to be on a first date, with the doctor. Cancelled at the last minute, rescheduled for tomorrow. I wish I could say I care, but I don’t.
So, I am at home, all done up and with nothing to do. A storm arrived at 6 p.m. on the dot, banging the doors and windows shut.
And maybe, just maybe, I have grown accustomed to spending thunderstorms with you.
And maybe, just maybe, absolutely maybe, I prefer to.