3:45 3:45. The numbers on the digital clock by the bed cast a green glow over the room. Outside, the street was quiet, save for the rustling of the leaves swirling in the autumn breeze. Inside, the only sound was the deep, even breath of sleep. She had gotten home at the regular time. …
What I had with John was a thunderstorm. It was full of lightening and wind and drama and passion.