Rainfield

He lay on his stomach in the middle of a grass field near his home and the rain came down fast in the warm afternoon. No shirt, no shoes, no jacket. Grass flavored rain bouncing into his mouth. Water rushed down the line in the middle of his back and pooled just above his shorts, overflowing down each side of him.

She lay down next to him, face to the sky, fingers flexed gently in his hair. She squinted her eyes open against the sharp, wet drops, imagining gravity in slow motion. Lightning flashed bright through the trees at the edge of the field and she counted one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five Mississippi, six Mississippi, seven Mississippi, eight Mississippi before thunder rolled over their bodies.

"Wanna leave?" he said.

She opened her mouth to let in the rain. Nine Mississippi, ten Mississippi, eleven Mississippi, twelve Mississippi, thirteen Mississippi, fourteen Mississippi...