The sky flashed so many times, it was as if it wanted to take my photograph, like some kind of dysfunctional photo booth. I waited in awe, in the rain, at the bus-stop, listening to the sky, which had replaced my MP3 player, with gorgeously loud roars and crackles as music. The boy with blonde hair seemed to be looking at me, perhaps wondering why I was staring up at the sky and grinning.

I ate ice-cream as I wandered home, concluding once again that it does taste better in a thunderstorm.

The sun returned quickly and then the blue sky, but perhaps it will look dark over Will's mother's again soon.

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squirmelia

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