Epilogue

EPILOGUE

I STEP OUTSIDE.
The automatic doors gasp open like they’ve been holding their breath.

The parking lot is glowing—unnaturally bright.
Sky: greenish-purple.
Air: staticky.
Hair: rising.

I find my car.
I always park near Dick’s Sporting Goods
Even though I never buy anything there
Something about the area comforts me.

Then—
BOOM.

First drop hits the hood.
Big as a grape.
Then another.
Then twenty.

It’s hailing.

Of course it is.
Of course it is.

I fumble the keys.
Classic.
Wallet still gone—right, I threw it away.

The hail turns to golf balls.
Tiny icy warnings from the gods.

I dive into the car just as one pings off my windshield.

Inside, it’s oddly peaceful.
Cozy, almost.

I watch people sprinting across the lot like action figures in chaos mode.
Umbrellas flip.
A guy yells, “THEY LIED ABOUT THE WEATHER.”

I turn on the radio.
Static.
Then, faintly—
Smooth jazz.

Perfect.

I wait it out.
Like life.

Ten minutes later, the storm stops as suddenly as it started.
The parking lot steams like it’s trying to forget.

I drive off into the wet orange horizon.
No wallet.
No plan.
But I have leftover noodles and the ghost of a receipt.

That’s enough.