AM:43

The power went out during the storm. Hazel and Sam talked in the darkness without touching.

Sam had given up on finding a flashlight and instead lay on the kitchen floor. “Goethe said that everything is metaphor.”

“I can never pronounce his name correctly.”

“Gerr-tay.”

“Gare-tah.”

“Gareth.”

“Certainly it’s not ‘Gareth’.”

“Certainly not.”

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated them both. They listened for the thunder. “The correct pronunciation is right around the corner,” she said.

“Guer-tuh.”

The crack of thunder startled Hazel. She reached out for Sam’s hand.

“That might be it,” she said.