Lightning in Her Palm

The bonfire crackled against the dark sky, palm trees swaying like they were dancing to the bass thumping from someone's bluetooth speaker. I was low-key dying inside, doomscrolling through my iphone like a zombie, stuck in that trance where your thumb moves but your brain doesn't.

Then—bam. Dead. The lightning bolt icon faded to black, and I was forced to look up, actually be present for once.

That's when I saw Her. Maya, the girl I'd been low-key obsessed with since September, dressed as some ethereal forest spirit with actual flowers in her hair. She wasn't on her phone. She was reading palms, laughing with this intense joy that made my chest feel weird.

"Want yours read?" she asked, noticing me staring.

I held out my palm, my hand shaking. She traced my lifeline with gentle fingers, her touch sending little lightning sparks up my arm. "You're going to live a long one," she said, "but you've been walking around like a zombie lately, haven't you?"

I was busted. Completely called out.

Outside, lightning cracked the sky open—nature's flash photography. Rain started coming down sideways. Everyone shrieked and sprinted toward the beach house, but Maya grabbed my hand.

"Incoming!" she laughed, pulling me straight into the downpour.

We were soaked instantly. I wasn't scrolling, wasn't zombie-walking through life. I was HERE. Present. The iphone in my pocket was just dead weight, and I didn't even care.

"Bet you're glad your phone died," Maya yelled over the thunder.

"So glad," I shouted back.

We danced in the rain while lightning turned the night purple and electric, palm trees silhouetted like witness to something real. For the first time in months, I wasn't watching life through a screen. I was living it—lightning in my palm, thunder in my chest, maybe falling in love.

The zombie was dead. The real me was finally alive.