The storm raged, as it did all the nights in that town. It didn't rage because it was the way of nature, no, it brewed because the woman wanted it too. Its turbulent winds and its cries of love had caught her eye. The storm's colors, hidden in its body, interested her. The storm was fierce and strong yet gentle and kind. It serenaded the woman with it's various cracks and pops. The pitter patter of raindrops. The woman loved it all, for as long as she lived she expected to love the storm. And so the Woman and the storm, who had been reeled in and became head over heels for the woman, met as much as they could. The storm would come early, awaiting her arrival like every time it came. The woman would catch up, bringing trinkets and fun toys; not to mention her own radiance itself. Despite its wildness and untame personally, the storm was grounded; in love. Encapsulated by the woman. She spoke of her troubles and the storm did it's best to find a way to comfort her. It would blow anything that bothered her out of the way if it could. It would smite the woman's attackers and speak well of her across the land. Then, one day, the storm came out. The woman had beat the storm there, not that it was a big deal to either of them. It was awkward somehow. The storm tried out it's serenade, it's gentle rains, but the woman was unresponsive. Their time together ended that night, but later on the woman met the storm again. She no longer had anything for the storm, no love, no feelings. Simply cold eyes and a guarded heart. She didn't want to crush the storm, but she didn't want to be with it either. To appreciate it or bother to try and be happy with it. The storm's shifts and turns and brilliance no longer meant anything to the woman. The storm did not rage, in a wonderful way, that night. It wept. And so the woman left as the storm died. Wrapping itself up in it's own despair and vanishing. Never to rage again. Though the storm may have died, the pitter patter of its rain still waited at the woman's door. Hoping one day she may come back again, but feeling as though it may never happen.
