Nothing Like a Little Lightning to Ruin a Date
So I’ve finally gotten to the third date, the one where she and I end up in my apartment, alone, on the couch, watching some movie that I can’t concentrate on long enough to care about. I’m at the part where I’m easing my arm over her shoulders in a very nonchalant way when a light flickers somewhere down the hall. It’s so fast, so bright, so quick that I think maybe I’ve imagined it until she says, “Hey, did you see that?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I wonder what-”
It happens again, and brighter this time. It takes my retinas a minute to adjust, and even then, the flash leaves me seeing splotches.
She looks at me.
So here I am, all cool and collected in front of this pretty girl while, for some reason, the hallway to the bathroom is lighting up like the Fourth of July. No biggie, right?
I leave her on the couch looking beautiful, if not scared, and walk cautiously down the hall. When the light flashes again, it’s powerful, and it knocks me to the ground. But it’s when I open my eyes that-