Lightning is flashing…

Lightning is flashing outside my window, the beginnings of a thunderstorm. I opened the window to take in deep breaths of the thick, wet air. This is the kind of weather I love best, the kind I remember from college in Hyde Park, the apartment at 53rd and Blackstone, where I would leave my bedroom, drag Kevin into his, and have sex for hours, with the rain pounding down and the doors thrown open wide.

On the tv, they're saying that we've fired cruise missiles over Baghdad.

Lightning and thunder in a dark sky.

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