#205: The Storm

He would later try to recall what he noticed first. It was certainly the brightness of the lights as the automatic doors slide open and the blast of cool air-conditioned air slithered over his skin. A chill rippled across the tiny beads of sweat as his eyes adjusted.

The supermarket was busy as the locals prepared for the oncoming storm. He’d never seen clouds so large and ominous loom on the horizon. He was going to ride the storm out in his van, and needed junk food to ease any boredom.

And then he saw the leopard print dress. And then the tattoo of the same print stretching down her left shoulder.

They locked eyes, and both stopped moving. The distance between them was less than a metre, but twenty years separated them. Her dark eyes had not changed and still pierced all pretence, stripping away any idea that he didn’t still love her.

Tracey smiled faintly. There was confusion over what she could do. She was cradling her groceries as if they were a newborn.

So many thoughts crossed his mind.

She spoke first. “Where are you going to be hunkered down?”

He wasn’t sure if this was some local lingo for surviving the storm.

“I’ll be in my van, up on the foreshore. I think it’s safe.”

“Park at my place. We’ll drink wine and watch the show.”

“The show?”

“The lightening. The greatest thing in this world is a Broome storm.”