Cooking up a storm

Outside, it's thundering.

Melodramatic drum rolls echo through the inky summer night sky.

A flash of heavy rain is thrumming across the roads, rooftops, car bonnets. The raindrops are the storm's mischievous, rascally, shimmering little foot soldiers.

They patter and batter against my window. But not in a threatening way.

It's more as if to say, don't forget your power.

Late-night voices shriek and laugh as post-pub gaggles of friends run for cover.

The hiss of car tyres on wet tarmac.

Magic is real.

Pearl 

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To thine own self be true

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Friends from dreams