Thunder rumbles. Lightning spikes. Cold rain pelts trampled grass, floods gutters, grounds kites, and confines boys, girls, and dogs to too-small houses where they press noses to windows and fog double-paned glass with playful hopes and pent-up energy. Eager bodies impatient for drier days fidget as numberless gray drops transform ditches to mirrors.
Jim Latham ditched Alaska’s oilfields in favor of central Mexico. He lives out of two zebra-print suitcases and divides his time between hiking, teaching English as a second language, and writing. He publishes flash every Wednesday on his Substack, Jim’s Shorts, and less frequently around the web.