Before the Storm

The air holds its breath— a thousand invisible threads pulled taut between cloud and earth. Birds have gone silent, even the wind pauses.

In this suspended moment, everything waits to be erased or made new. The world leans forward. A single drop on skin tastes like thunder's echo.

The trees know what's coming. They bow their heads in recognition, a gesture half-prayer, half-surrender, as if they've been waiting for permission to finally fall.