“Mommy, what was that?” My child cries softly as she and I huddle with a flashlight in my room. She was terrified of thunder, like many other children her age.
                “I’m sure we’ll find out tomorrow, sweetie. Try and get some sleep,” I murmur, stroking her hair with a gentle touch. Eventually she does go into the hands of night, as all do. I stare out of the window, past the pale yellow curtains, past the panes of glass and into the dark, forbidding rain smashing on the window as if it were trying to break into the house and flood my home.
                Crack.