Hidden Clips

Lightning Strikes Again

Thunder rouses Norma from her deep slumber, and she mutters curses as she notices her open window. Struggling to sit upright, the remnants of dinner drinks with Alex weigh heavily on her. Dizzy, tired, dehydrated, she glances at the digital clock, sighing at the time before a lightning strike startles her.

Norma has never liked this weather, a fear rooted in childhood when storms meant being alone. Her parents knew her dread but did nothing to ease it. Yet tonight, someone is there for her, just down the hall. With each lightning bolt, she gains the courage to seek him out.

Knocking lightly on Alex's door, she calls out to him, her voice trembling. Resting her forehead against the frame, she waits, her hand clenched in nervousness.

"Alex?" she whispers, relieved when he responds.

As he unlocks the door, concern evident in his voice, Norma is grateful for his presence, though it pains her that their interactions always begin with those same two questions.

"Um..." she glanced nervously around, searching for the right words. "Yes, I'm fine. Everything's okay."

"What's wrong?" he asked, releasing the door.

Her eyes darted briefly over his bare chest, then she averted her gaze before he noticed her staring.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." she began to retreat, but Alex halted her.

"Norma," he murmured.

She froze, his voice compelling her to stay.

Turning back to face him, another lightning flash illuminated the house, causing her to jump. Her hands flew to her chest as if to steady her pounding heart.

Alex noticed her reaction to the lightning, piecing together the reason behind her frantic knocks and shaky voice.

Her eyes fixed on the wooden floor, avoiding the urge to seek refuge in his arms.

"I-I hate this weather," she stammered. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Norma, you knocked on my door. You obviously intended to wake me up."

"That's beside the point, Alex."

"How so?"

She sighed. "Let's just forget it, it's fine."

"You're heading back to your room now?" he asked, approaching her. "Why wake me up if you're not going to tell me what's going on?"

"I already told you," she said, meeting his gaze. Despite the darkness, their eyes found each other easily. "I'm scared."

"Of what?" he heard her the first time, but he wanted her to say it again.

"I hate thunder. I hate lightning. I don't like this weather, and usually, I have Norman here to comfort me but—"

She was genuinely frightened.

"There's nothing to be scared of," he reassured her gently. "Nothing's going to happen."

"How can you be sure?" her voice trembled. "There's lightning out there, and we don't know how close it is."

"Yes, we do."

"We do?"

"After you see a flash of lightning, count the number of seconds until you hear the thunder."

"How does that help?" she asked, hugging herself.

"Well, you see, for every five seconds, the storm is one mile away. So you divide the number of seconds you count by five to get the number of miles."

"That doesn't make sense."

He chuckled. "I know, but it's a little trick that can help calm your nerves."