The parking lot smells like chicken grease and lightning. I breathe in the damp electricity and dark of 9:45 and start running. My black flats slap on the asphalt. I laugh because it's bristly cold and I pump my arms. I try running with springs for legs. The puddles are filled with rainbows and streetlights.
The shopping cart handle shifts under my grip as I spin the cart on its corner wheel. It's probably been out here for a week but Morgan only pointed it out to me tonight. She told me to grab it before the rain hit.
It hits against my glasses.
The half-droplets quiver and turn red in the KMart sign light.
I rev the cart. My noises sound warm in the rain. Three sprints - slap, slap, slap - feet on the wire bar. I laugh as the sky lights up.
Morgan scolds me for tracking wet feet into the store.