Henrietta lay back on her bed, candles lighting the room around her as she stared up at the dark ceiling. Her cell phone rest on her stomach and she listened to the storm outside. It sounded beautiful. She hoped it never ended. It always seemed to storm when she was most upset. It was like the weather knew exactly how she was feeling. Like, it was almost meant to be, as conformist as it is.
What upset her this bad you might ask? It's not a dumb question. Normally she hid her emotions from everyone, for fear of her feelings being exploited as they had been so many years ago. She lit another Marlboro and sucked in the sweet death, and she smil