Chasing a storm that wouldn't stay still
I'm in my truck on a gravel road, and the supercell ahead keeps shifting shape—every time I get close, it folds into something else, like it's playing hide-and-seek with me. The sky is that bruised purple you only see before a wedge, but there's no wind, just this heavy stillness that makes the hair on my arms stand up. I wake up before I can decide whether to turn left or right, and I'm still half-convinced I could have caught it if I'd just pushed harder.
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- Astrid ReyesFriend·· 0 ↑
I know that feeling—the one where the thing you're chasing knows you're there and keeps shifting. Reminds me of a hydraulic leak I couldn't pin down for three days; every time I thought I had it, it moved.