---
title: "Storm Sights"
description: "Clouds moved over the blue sky like a looming threat that couldn’t be contained. He picked at the corner of the old, vinyl table cover as he followed the grey…"
url: https://www.independentpress.com/article/storm-sights
date: 2026-07-13
categories: ["Fiction"]
author: "Dyani Palmer"
---

# Storm Sights

![Storm Sights](https://images.ctfassets.net/ewtdlsoyixc1/2nEabJSnZGkAbomsA4F09n/12c6d3d7bd78d35e89d27b1c5739fac4/photo-1762015596097-18a089eca737.jpg)

Clouds moved over the blue sky like a looming threat that couldn’t be contained. He picked at the corner of the old, vinyl table cover as he followed the grey clouds across the heavens. The world was covered in a layer of ice, with Xander trapped behind it, unable to reach the other side.

“Xander, are you listening?”

He blinked, looking back across the table. Lyla, even with saintly patience, was fixed on him with a look that demanded she not be ignored.

He hadn't been present all weekend. Every attempt to explore the small shops at the little coast town they were staying at was laden with the slow steps of a man who was present only physically. As the held hands Lyla’s grip grew tighter, like she was forcing him to join her. But still he couldn’t. At the last store they stopped at, Lyla didn’t talk to him and only looked around silently at the painted shells. Xander followed, feeling more like a ghost with every moment.

Lyla wore her emotions on her sleeve. Most days, it made her approachable and exceedingly empathetic. But sitting there, in the old booth seat, it felt like a knife to the heart that cut through everything. He fought through the fog in his mind to look her dead in the eyes.

“Right, right,” he muttered, before laughing awkwardly, “I think it’s gonna rain. If we run through the rain, it’ll be like a movie scene,” he tried to joke. He didn’t think it landed. Even when he wanted to give her more, it was all he could offer her.

Lyla let out a huff of laughter, like she was surprised she got a response at all. Her eyes, pale and piercing, were looking at him like she finally recognized him.

“Where was this Xander all day?” she asked. 

“Fighting to get back to you,” he said honestly.

—

The rain beat against the window like a drum. Xander felt his heartbeat in time with each droplet as he gazed into the stormy night. The clouds consumed the sky and left no light behind besides the flashes of lightning, leaving him to watch the sight in silent contemplation.

The hotel room creaked and swayed with the movement of other guests who were staying there, but none of it registered. All that mattered was the pattering of water and the occasional boom of thunder. Light filtered in from beneath the door and from the sink in the corner. He hadn’t turned the lamps on when he sat down at the desk in the corner. Darkness enveloped him as if he were a shadow. Soft footsteps came up behind him, stopping at his left, but he didn’t turn to face them. A cup was placed in front of his face causing him to cringe away from the pungent smell. 

“Turmeric tea,” Lyla said, “Have some.”

Grudgingly, he took a sip and pushed it back at her in disgust. His tongue tingled even after he swallowed and the smell lingered in his nose. The ice hung over his head thinned in the face of his revulsion. “Ugh, that’s terrible. Why do I trust your taste in drinks?”

Lyla ignored his criticism and swirled the abandoned mug in her hand. “That’s why I usually add honey, but I couldn’t find any.” She swirled the cup once more and fixed a gaze at Xander’s wet hair, “not to mention, this tea is good for colds.”

Xander reached up to scratch his head at the reminder, “Worth it. Though I didn’t expect it to rain cats and dogs.”

As if on cue, thunder rumbled like an angry dog as lightning cracked across the sky. In response, Lyla hummed doubtfully.

“We have to talk.”

Xander sighed and hung his head. “I know.”

“What has been up with you? This,” she gestured to him, slumped and haggard, “this isn’t you.”

“I’m just tired,” he tried.

Lyla snorted, derisive, “Really? I couldn’t tell. It’s not like you haven’t been sleeping, even before we left.”

There it was, Xander thought, the heart of why she was sitting here in the dark with him. He couldn’t blame her; Lyla wasn’t wrong. Visibly, he hadn’t slept well in a week. Truthfully, he hadn’t slept well for much longer. He went to bed late and woke up early, existing as nothing but a statue to be moved around. 

Even worse, he should’ve seen that lack of sleep as a sign that this weekend would be a disaster.

He sighed, an over-the-top expression of exasperation that he couldn’t suppress. “I’m fine, I’m fine, go to sleep. I’ll turn in soon. Then I’ll be back to normal.”

“If you’re gonna lie to my face, be more convincing,” Lyla said. As always, she ignored him and stayed put. Her eyes, intense and inquisitive, watched him as if she could pry answers from him with her gaze alone. 

Unfortunately for her, he had none to offer her. 

How do you explain something you don’t fully understand yourself? 

He felt tired but could not sleep, his brain rebelling against all pleasure even when his body was fine enough to continue. Things that he enjoyed became dull and things he hated became so unbearable he wanted to curl up and never face the world again. Every time, the world iced over and the skies stormed.

It wasn’t a unique experience for him; it had happened before and likely would happen in the future. This trip was the first time Lyla was exposed to his constant melancholy, unrelenting against her best attempts to have a cheerful weekend vacation. He didn’t know how to tell her it wasn’t her fault he was just like this, so he said nothing. The downhills will turn up at some point, all he could do is hold on for now. He’d make it up to her when they came. If she gave him a chance to make it up to her.

“I didn’t realize you liked storms,” Lyla said eventually.

“I don’t,” Xander responded honestly. “But the sound’s calming, when it’s just rain.”

She nodded like she understood. “My dad used to say that thunder was angels bowling.”

Xander snorted, “I’ve heard that before. People sure got creative with what causes the weather.”

Lyla smiled and shrugged, “From what I’ve seen, the fun part of being a parent is lying to make the world more exciting.”

“Well, they gotta get their kicks from somewhere.”

Lyla laughed softly and agreed. Her eyes still watched him, but her gaze was softer now. Less a detective and more herself. She pushed the cup towards him again and he grimaced. “And you won’t be any fun sick.”

He groaned, “Being sick might be better than that swill.”

“Who said you had a choice in not drinking it?” Lyla asked, eyes wide in fake innocence.

“Ugh, pushy, aren’t you?”

“And yet,” she mused aloud. “you like me pushy.”

He did, heavens help him. He felt more human and less marionette when she poked him to complain about this or that. He tilted his head away from the window to stare at her head on and Lyla smiled wider when his eyes met hers.

“Fine,” he grumbled, mostly for show, “I’ll drink the stupid thing.”

Lyla leant back, smiled, and went to the side table to turn the light. The room was flooded with a warm light that bit into Xander’s eyes before he blinked the feeling away. He was a shadow exposed to light, revealing the tired man underneath the blanket of darkness. With the light on and tea warming his hands, the storm seemed to dissipate. The booming sounds turned to a distant rumbling, and the droplets mixed together in a continual stream instead of individual marks on the window.

Lyla smiled again when their eyes met and reclined on the bed like she had the most relaxing day. Part of him eased at seeing her so comfortable, but the majority rebelled at how happy she was to watch him sulk and grumble instead of being more present for her. She could be out, laughing at the storm and how it kept the night going, not waiting for him to crawl out of his mood. It felt like a waste of vibrancy to confine her to this cheap hotel room with him and the gloom.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, words spilling out of him like a broken dam, “I ruined our vacation. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Is that what you think?” she asked, “That the weekend sucked?”

“I know it; you had a plan and it didn’t happen. Just a walk around town, that’s not worth the money spent to come here.”

Lyla was quiet for a moment as she took in his words. She was a quick-witted person, the first thing he ever knew of her, but sometimes Xander glimpsed at a woman who chose her words with care usually associated with fine diamonds.

“I got to spend time with you,” she chose eventually, “You tried even when you were tired. That’s what matters to me. We can plan another vacation later, if you want. When you’re feeling better.”

“Better?” He raised an eyebrow, “You’re confident.”

“Storms pass, this will to.”

“Sometimes they go on longer than anyone can stand.”

Lyla was watching him again with that deep, unknowable gaze. Then, she smiled, sharp and matching him beat for beat. Like he answered a question she didn’t dare ask and got an answer anyways.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m pushy.”

“And if this happens again?” he challenged. 

“I’ll give you more tea,” she promised, “and next time, I’ll have honey. All you have to do is keep drinking it, even if it doesn’t fit your masterful tastes.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the words and the surety behind them. The storm clouds flashed with lightning in his peripherals, but the wonder of the crackling light fell before the miracle cure of her words and that horrible smelling tea.