The first wave lasted only minutes, and I went outside after to feel the air. It felt . . . lovely. Perfect. The still air was that temperature that I can't feel on my skin. And the breeze was cool enough to raise slight goosebumps on my uncovered arms. My bare feet and I walked the sidewalk to the corner, to look into the distance where the lightning was playing. A droplet or two fell onto my head, my shoulders.
The sidewalk was warm still from the intense heat of the day. ("It's scorching out there!" I'd heard regularly from those who weren't chained to the reception desk and could go outside, and had to. The smokers, I mean. And the FedEx guy. "You're lucky to be in an office where it's cool. Don't go outside if you can help it.") The steps were already dry. So I sat down and leaned back and closed my eyes. And breathed.
More was beginning to fall before he parked in front of the house and came up the steps. I continued sitting there for a few moments, enjoying the drops on my face and the bemused smile on his. I caved soon, though, and we went inside. Sat on the couch, talked about what to eat.
When the rain truly started again, though, when it was falling in earnest, sheeting down accompanied by rumbles of sound and flashes of light, then I looked away. Kneeled on the couch with my arms resting on the back, peered out the window. "I need a house with a bay window," I said. "With a window seat." He joined me in kneeling, grinned at me, kissed me on the cheek.