White hot sky

She kept the TV on just for the distraction of white noise while she prepared for her day. Leaning back from the wall of mirrors over her vanity where she left scuff marks of mascara on the glass, she squinted toward the television, laughing at the weather forecast.

She didn’t need a Barbie Doll talking head to tell her what to expect, she could feel it. There was a tingle of energy in the room. Barbie was predicting, “hot and sunny.” Barbie was wrong. There was a storm coming.

Leaning forward again, eyes wide, mouth open, face mere inches from the mirror, she continued slathering black goo on her baby fine lashes. Straightening up, she twisted her head side to side, admiring her makeup, expertly applied regardless of her myopic view, she hoped that it didn’t run in the rain.

Dressed in blinding white capris and a coral tank, she pulled on several chunky lucite bangles and stepped into a pair of wedge sandals. Donning her oversized Jackie O shades and crocheted raffia sun hat, her outfit was complete.

Once outside on her stoop, she was grateful for the emerald green and cream striped awning over the front door. The proffered shade gave some relief from the hot, salty ocean breeze, and blistering sun. She could feel her artistry begin to melt, but forged onward.

At the edge of the sand, standing on the wooden boardwalk, she took off her glasses and squinted at the white hot sky, vaguely wondering if it was already on its way.

The tourists on the beach were easy to identify. Locals, acclimated to the tropical weather, were the color of flan. The out-of-towners were a bright shade of amaranth, as painful to see as it was to feel.

Kicking off her heels, she hooked them over her wrist and stepped onto the hot sand. She could already feel a change in the air, a stirring of power. Electricity crackled along her arms, raising goosebumps on her skin and tiny sparks on her finger tips.

She felt the first rain drop just as she reached the wet tide mark.

While the beach began to clear, combers reluctant to be rained on, despite their already ocean damp skin, she scanned the horizon for the first signs.

Black clouds rolled in with blinding speed, obscuring her view, but she didn’t need to see. She would feel it when it came near. The first rumble of thunder radiated up through the sand, the smell of sulfur made her smile.

Far  away from shore the ocean was churning, huge waves building. He was coming. The rising storm had emptied the beach, leaving her alone to welcome him. She hoped he approved of her new outfit. She knew he liked coral best.