The storm was raging outside, but the two of them were tucked in a blanket on the couch, listening to each other’s voices.
“It’s so good to be in here and not out there, huh?” he stated the obvious.
“Yes,” she said, “I love rain and I love dancing in the rain in the middle of the street, but I hate storms.”
He put an arm around her and squeezed tighter.
“I wish I had taken my Smiths with me, but there is no record player here,” she added.
“Yeah, Chip’s parents don’t seem like the type.”
“Anyway,” she said, “I like this too. Laying my head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat. Reminds me how fragile life is. How lucky we are to be here, even though it’s such a harsh world.”
He thought about Monday, when they would have to get back to school. It was a harsh world indeed. But she probably meant more like war and stuff.
“I sometimes think the Earth might be some other place’s hell. Do you ever think that?”
“I dunno. I never thought of that. Some people have a good life, right?”
“Yes,” she said longingly, “Some do.”
Lightning struck somewhere close and the roar of thunder made her jump. He thought she was so sensitive, and so fragile, like a mouse or some other rodent.