In a few minutes it will pass over the river and hit me, and the music festival, head on. It’s like I’m conjuring it up myself, the elements matching my mood, instead of being a typical late summer thunderstorm. I didn’t bring a jacket or an umbrella and I have no idea where I’m going. I’m wandering, aimless, just trying to understand what’s happened, wanting to come to terms with my friendship with Amy but still feeling things too clearly. If I let myself dwell on it too much, I’ll fall into another downward spiral and this time I’m not sure if I have the strength to crawl out all on my own. I’ve turned down a street past a row of food trucks, near the university where my father teaches when the sky goes dark, slowly, like someone pulling a dimmer switch. The air grows heavier. I can feel the weight on my skin, producing a sheen of sweat, the hairs on my arms standing with electricity. Yet a shiver slowly makes its way down my spine, icy fingers feeling along each bump of my vertebrae.
