I used to swim most days at sunset. One day, dozens of vultures flew over me and then circled our mountain. They flew in pairs. Thunder reached across the valley, the sky turned grey, but rain never came. I turned on the pool’s motor, poured a cup of chlorine, and left it running.
It was dark by the time I returned to turn it off. My flashlight searched the path for snakes. At the top of the hill, I was stopped by the starry sky, the village’s lights, and by the thought of how long I’d need to remain there.
That sense of rain presaged by never arriving. Quite a thing.
Cool piece.
A book in the making of flash fiction that defines life, nature, joy, loss and love.