The Sticky Quiet

We clasped hands under the big green sky, in the sticky quiet that comes before the storm. Nothing dared to move as the whole world held its breath, waiting to see what was to come.⁣
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And then it came, all at once, and the scorching breath of summer was chased away, replaced with wind that chilled us deep.⁣
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We pulled each other along, hands still tight together, all the way to the house that lived close to the clouds, where you could taste the electricity before it struck.⁣