shot apart. He stared back at me with wide eyes and a face painted with shock. We turned and looked outside at the smoking, charred remains of a stone bench on the other side of the glass, only illuminated by the intense lightning streaking across the sky, throwing the landscape around us from night to day in split second chunks. With wide eyes, we both looked up at the glass and metal structure currently protecting us, and I don’t think either of us wanted to test whether the floor would insulate us from a direct hit or the adage about lightning never striking twice. Bolting toward the main
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