There were no clouds.
No thunder.
No warning
on the evening news.
Just a phone
lighting up
over and over,
trying to convince me
that I deserved
the storm.
I remember thinking—
this weather
has my address memorized.
Not because
I invited it.
Because storms
always seem
to recognize
the houses
already under repair.
Still,
morning came.
It always does.
Not to erase
what happened.
To remind us
that sunlight
never asks
whether we earned it.
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