Electric Current

The rain started when Mara was three miles into her run, each drop hitting her skin like accusations. She kept running, though — she always did. That was the problem, according to Elena. You never stop running, Mara. Not from anything.

Mara slowed to a walk near the old community center, its pool where they'd spent every summer of their childhood. Swimming laps until their fingers wrinkled, Elena racing ahead while Mara struggled to keep pace. Back when friendship seemed simple, before the car accident that took Elena's brother and left Mara wondering why she'd been driving, why she'd survived.

The sky cracked open — lightning illuminating the parking lot, bright and unforgiving as the moment everything changed. She'd been running from the truth for three years: that she'd been distracted, arguing with Elena about something meaningless. That boy's death hung between them like surgical wire.

An orange safety cone caught the flash, glowing briefly before fading. That summer, they'd shared orange creamsicles on the pool deck, legs dangling in the water, talking about everything and nothing. Elena's laughter had been the best sound Mara knew.

Now the pool was empty, its surface dark and still. Mara's phone buzzed — a message from Elena's number, deleted and blocked long ago. But she recognized the area code, the sudden appearance after years of silence.

I'm getting married next month. I think you should know.

Mara stood in the rain, electric with possibility and dread. Running hadn't saved her. Swimming wouldn't wash it clean. Some things you had to walk through, even when every step felt like lightning through your chest.