Raindrops of Intrigue

The rain fell in uneven sheets. Every few minutes, a flash of light would fill through the windows. Within seconds, the thunder's rumble and shake exploded as the storm raged across the sky for the last three hours. The sounds of police and fire department vehicles sirens filled the static sound of droplets that hit the top of the apartment building.

Emily curled up on an aged, green, and beaten bean bag in her studio apartment. It and its demolished twin made up the only "couch" that separated the length between her television, small kitchen, and futon behind it. A bundle of covers surrounded her as the only means of protection from the storm on the top floor of her complex. Her phone, with its long charging cable, sat on the floor next to her, turned off and displaying the battery life at two percent as she tried to bring it back to life.

© 2025 Angela Morin (Hljóðbók): 9798318302800

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Hljóðbók: 17 maj 2025