When a storm is coming, he acts like he’s out of his mind.
“It’s coming! Hurry up, fuck, hurry the fuck up!” He is yelling at me, pushing heavy curtains that cover the glass wall of the living room to the sides, howling like a wild dog. A giant storm is coming, the sky has turned black and the lights above the kitchen desk are flickering. The air smells of rain and electricity, and it makes me shiver. He makes me shiver, too. It’s wakened up in...Read On