THE OTHER TEMPEST

Lightning strikes close by and flares up the room for a second, ghost-movie style. Then, her silhouette by the window turns to me.

“Just let me stay the night,” she asks. Her voice drops in the dark: “You don’t have to do a thing. Just let me stay.”

That’s just it: I want to do something. I want to do a lot of things. To her. With her. More than I ever did. It’s like another tempest, inside, fighting to spill over and thunder.

But I don’t have the mettle for it. 

She’s got a husband. His name’s Edgar Rosa. Don’t let the name fool you; he’s no flower. Rumor has it Rosa has had guys smoked just for looking at her twice. Can’t really blame him: I would do the same. Maybe. I don’t know.

All I know is that she can’t spend the night at my place. I don’t care if it’s raining cats and dogs outside and the wind is hurling them sideways against the window. She can’t stay here. 

She shouldn’t even be here. Why did I open the door to her?

I know why. She knows it, too.

And now I’m going to die like some dime Romeo. All because it was raining tonight, she didn’t want to return home, and there’s been a magnetic storm raging in me since the day I met her.

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© 2026 CE @NoirOnTheVine 

Pic: Canva 

84.2 #vss365 (tempest) #WedsStory (magnetic) #flashfiction #microfiction #neonoir