This reminds me of you....he said...it was in the gloaming of an evening showering blondes and yellows from a faint sun obscured by clouds and rain...the sky was fantastic. The air was filled with the pulse of rain and wind that drove both colorless drops and colorful leaves in scattering downpours.
The trees lilted and piroutted and shed tiny bits, seemingly moving in unison then randomly.
Why? she replied.
Well...first of all, being named after a hurricane would be pretty awesome...as the skies collected the remnants of Patricia and strew them across the horizon....but I think the thing that I was sort of intimating isn't the power, or the fury...or any devastation--
-Well that's thoughtful--
Let me finish...it is in the aftermath...it is the scrubbed clean air...it's like the day was freshly washed...it is--
So I'm an exfoliant?
Christ would you let me finish? No. I can find that in a drugstore...you're way rarer.
Well...thank you.
But it is the calming impact of an afterwards....like violence then calm, like wind then nothing...but there is clearly evidence.
Evidence?
Like something has happened...something has changed.
Like what?
Like...like me...like when you walk by you strip me of my senses....maybe briefly, but you dust away my current thoughts...you scatter my immediate concern...you dissipate my worries...maybe just for a second but you leave me with nothing but a very clear and unfiltered view of you and I find that amazing.
She paused, head down. Maybe that's how you should've started this conversation.
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