Word count: 3,159 oops
You loved heavy rain and light thunder storms. What you didn't appreciate was when a bright flash came from outside your window, enough to light up a whole room if only for a millisecond, followed by rumbling walls and shaky floors. It made you feel small, defenseless. Your small apartment didn't make things better. It did help to remember that your neighbors were experiencing the same storm and they were doing just fine, but that only kept you calm to a certain degree.
It was Saturday and raining, which didn't bother you too much since you probably would have spent the day inside anyway. You woke up around 8 AM, your internal clock too used to being up early for work. After binge-reading a mythological webcomic on your phone until noon, you finally got around to tidying up. It was time for a deep cleaning of the apartment. Of course, for you this meant listening to music, YouTube videos, or a TV show in the background while you got to it.
By 4 o'clock you were in the kitchen, putting away clean dishes. The rain came and went, but now it was full on storming outside. The YouTube video playing on your phone buffered as you lost connection and you groaned. Whatever, you could find something else to do after you finished in the kitchen.
A loud crack of thunder, and the lights were out. You flinched, dropping a glass mixing bowl that shattered into almost twenty pieces and cut your feet even though you jumped back. Overly aware of the thin walls, you quieted your whines of pain as you sank to the ground, cradling the foot that took the brunt of the damage. It took a minute to compose yourself before deciding to stand up and gather your first-aid supplies, but glass stabbed at your hands as your tried to get up, making you yelp.
You groaned frustratedly and brushed away glass shards illuminated by the dull light through the windows. A rapping at your door drew you away from your bleeding feet and hands and flooded you with a deep sense of embarrassment. Who was knocking at your door right after the power cut out?
You managed to successfully push yourself up and hobble to the nearest chair, but you couldn't make it to the door if you tried. Blood now smeared the floor you only just steam-mopped an hour ago. You completely tuned out the second round of knocking until you heard the door open. Shit, it wasn't locked?
"Hello?" a voice called. It was masculine, but sweet and melodic. "Is everything okay in here?"
You grimaced, then let out a defeated sigh. "Y-yeah! I just. . . fell."
A thin figure peeked around the corner and you half-assed a greeting smile, eyebrows too upturned to look anything but in pain.
"Hey. . . I'm sorry for letting myself in, I just wanted to make sure you were okay," the man explained. You recognized him, he lived on this floor too. You guessed he was one of your next-door neighbors, given that he heard the ruckus and that it took him no time at all to get to your door.
"N-no, that's actually very kind of you, but I-"
"You're bleeding," he interrupted, surprise laced in his voice as his phone's flashlight followed the red trail to your foot. "Where do you keep bandages?" he asked, already opening cabinets.
You wordlessly pointed to the right one and he rummaged a bit, pulling out a first-aid kit and pain killers. He set the kit down and gave you the bottle before filling a glass with water. You popped two pills, washing them down with the water as the man kneeled in front of you. He opened the kit and pulled out an antiseptic wipe, turning his attention to your face as he gently lifted your foot. Your face flushed red.
"O- oh you don't have to do that-"
"Don't worry about it. Here, you just hold the light and let me see how bad it is."
