IV: are you thinking what i'm thinking?

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Act One,  IV: are you thinking what i'm thinking?

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Act One, IV: are you thinking what i'm thinking?

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The air smells like ozone, salt, and destruction when Hurricane Agatha has come and gone. Moe is up before the boys are, climbing over a knocked out JJ on the pull-out and watching the sun come up over the clouds. The ocean horizon is a gleaming white that fades into a muddy yellow and muted green as it bleeds into the grass that reaches out of the marshland on the banks. Under her bare feet the splintering dock is still wet from the night before.

Moe doesn't like hurricanes. Not that anyone likes hurricanes. But Moe doesn't like the noise of them. Relentless rain, the groan of trees back and forth in the wind, the noise they make when their branches crack and crash to the ground, rolling thunder, the strike of lightning, things that she can't see clattering and slamming and shrieking against other things that she cant see and the hollowing whistle of the wind that sounds like the wail of a ghost. It's why she hogged the second joint they shared last night and went to sleep on JJ before the worst of the storm hit.

It's quiet now. In that way that is deafening. Only the sounds of squawking birds and chittering insects emerging from their hiding spots, and the slow lap of the tide against the shore as she runs her hands through her tangled hair.

Her skin is already sticky from sleeping the night next to JJ. He's always warm when he sleeps, has always run hot, sometimes she doesn't even bother with a blanket and just gets as close to him as is comfortable. Usually it's fine, but the hurricane has trapped all the hot air low to the ground and now her skin is so warm it could be feverish. Her hair curls at the nape of her neck. The dress from yesterday clings to her body and bunches up with wrinkles around her thighs.

Her finger itches instinctively to check her phone. But she'd already tried it before coming outside to no avail, so it now just sits in her backpack waiting for the day that the cell towers get fixed and it receives the backlog of messages and calls she's already dreading from Mac and Lo. Part of her hopes that it'll be a while. It'll be nice to get out of the habit of constantly checking her phone for messages.

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