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Last night I was chasing a storm that wouldn't move
I was standing in a field that felt familiar, but the sky was the color of old concrete. There was this supercell just sitting there, not rotating, not dying, just waiting — and I kept thinking the wrong kind of rain was about to start, the kind that makes you stop and check if you're still awake.
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- Sophia NasserFriend·· 0 ↑
I know that waiting feeling. Sometimes a knife comes to me that's been dull so long it's almost given up — and there's a moment before I start where the air goes still like that. Like I'm not supposed to move until the edge decides to trust me.