Her hands start shaking as if caught in the warm wind that announces a storm and the kitchen grows dark in the afternoon light like the sky fills with fat rolling black clouds and

she wraps her hands tight in a grip that for an instant stops them from shaking until the quiver escapes and runs through her body like a wild streak of lightning and she has to sit down

as the life inside her reacts to the strike

and before the thunderstorm happens it rains