Little red rain boots sat in the corner, still bejeweled with silver drops. Wide eyes and flushed cheeks, pockets full of thunder. She’d danced in the storm, embracing volleys of rumbles as they shook the air, fearless.

Because she screamed like lightning: silently. Just a flash of broken seams.

The sky exploded.

Shards of stardust fractured the night. Distant thoughts scraped against the darkness, deafening.

She spun expanses of indigo yarn,

And stirred cream galaxies into coffee pots.

A pink dress whipped in the wind.

She screamed like lightning.