One night, I left open my curtains open to let in the mood of the thunderstorm brewing outside. Some see storms as sullen and angry, but I enjoy the friendly, consistent sound of raindrops pinging into obstacles, and the bright flashes of light that fill my room. The windows let rectangles of light onto the ceiling, like two overhead projectors. A shadow was framed in the light of one. For a second, he was rendered invisible by lightning, which whitened the ceiling as long as it was there. When the shadow was visible again, he boldly winked at me, with crooked eyelids, and shook his gaping monster-like jaws as the wind whistled outside. I smiled and nodded politely at him, and a peal of thunder accentuated his pleased grin at being acknowledged. Then, ready to go to sleep, I closed the blinds and pulled the curtains shut. The shadow resignedly stepped back into the darkness, and faded away like a dream.
February 2, 2013