Lightning in Our Zombie Hearts

Maya felt like a straight-up zombie as she leaned against Tyler's basement wall, the 3 AM scrolling sessions finally catching up to her. Her iPhone clutched in her hand like a lifeline, she was doomscrolling through TikToks instead of actually, you know, talking to people.

"You look dead," said Jordan, sliding up beside her with two Solo cups. "Like, actually deceased."

"Thanks," Maya muttered, finally pocketing her phone. "That's the glow everyone talks about."

Jordan laughed—that sound that made something weird happen in her chest, like butterflies but with worse timing. The party was典型 high school chaos: too loud, too many people trying too hard, and someone had definitely already puked in the bathroom. But Jordan made it feel less exhausting somehow.

"Storm's getting crazy out there," Jordan said, nodding toward the small basement window. A flash of lightning illuminated the whole room, making everyone's faces go ghost-white for a second. The thunder followed immediately, shaking the floorboards.

"Bet," someone shouted. "Powers gonna go out!"

But it didn't. The lights flickered and stayed on, and suddenly Maya was hyperaware of Jordan's shoulder pressed against hers, the way their arms touched, how neither of them was pulling away. She looked up and Jordan was already watching her, not looking at their phones or the room or anything else.

"You wanna get some air?" Jordan asked quietly.

They ended up on the front porch wrapped in someone's discarded North Face, watching the lightning split the sky over and over like the world's most intense light show. No phones. No fake-deep Instagram captions about moments. Just them, shivering and alive and not zombie-tired for the first time in forever.

"This is kinda perfect," Maya said, and the way Jordan smiled at her—like really smiled, not the performative stuff for school—that was its own kind of lightning strike.

"Yeah," Jordan said. "It actually is."