Storm Signals

The sky outside my window is that bruised purple color that means trouble. I'm lying on my bed staring at my iPhone screen, watching everyone at Maya's party living their best lives without me. My feed is a highlight reel of fun I'm not having.

Thunder rumbles low in the distance, that guttural growl that makes the hair on my arms stand up. Then it happens—lightning fractures the sky, brilliant and terrifying, illuminating my room in a strobe-light flash that shows every dust particle floating in the air.

My bedroom door creaks open and there's Barnaby, my golden retriever, looking like he swallowed a thundercloud. His eyes are wide, tail tucked, ears flat against his head. Poor boy's been scared of storms since he was a puppy.

"S'okay, buddy," I whisper, patting the bed. He jumps up and presses his 75 pounds of anxiety against my side, his frantic heartbeat matching mine.

Another flash of lightning—closer this time. The thunder follows almost instantly, shaking the windows. I flinch. Barnaby whines, burying his head under my blanket like that's gonna save him.

My iPhone buzzes in my hand. A notification: "Mason is live!" from the party. I stare at it, thumb hovering, feeling that familiar FOMO twisting in my stomach. Why didn't I go? Social anxiety's a beast, and sometimes it wins.

Then lightning strikes again—so close I can taste ozone. My bedroom lights flicker and die. Perfect. Now I'm literally in the dark.

But something weird happens. In that darkness, with Barnaby's warm weight anchoring me to reality, the pressure in my chest eases. The party on my screen seems miles away, like a different dimension. Here, right now, it's just me and my dog against the storm.

I set the iPhone on my nightstand, screen-down. The notifications keep coming, but I ignore them. Instead, I stroke Barnaby's fur, feeling his breathing gradually slow.

"You know what, boy?" I say into the darkness. "Maybe this isn't so bad."

The storm rages on, but inside, I'm finally okay with missing out. Sometimes the most authentic moments happen when no one's watching—when it's just you, a terrified dog, and the electricity that lights up the sky.