Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

“Why?” I asked.
“Because of Winter by Walter de la Mare,” he replied
softly. “Something still beautiful, even after what I did to her.”
Her. Me. The snowflake represented winter.
My throat tightened, and I kind of smiled and teared up at
the same time. How did he do it? How did he always break my
heart, especially in ways I loved?
“I wish you could see the sea,” he suddenly said, changing
the subject. “The choppy waves and moonlight on the
whitewash. The rain spilling from the dark clouds under a
sliver of moonlight.”
I pictured it, what he was seeing, and I wondered if he felt
guilty about what happened to me and all the things I could no
longer see.
“I hear it,” I told him in a quiet voice as I listened to
everything around me. “The drops on the roof, heavier or
lighter in certain areas, because the trees are catching some of
it not hitting us.” I caressed his neck, finding his ear lobe with
my fingers as I listened for more. “The storm drains we pass
every minute or so, because the tires are hitting where the
water pools as it flows into the underground.” And then I
smiled, telling him, “And the rhythm of the wipers and how
they sound like We Will Rock You when the two in front go and
then the one in the back does, and it’s like “swipe, swipe,
SWIPE”.” I imitated the beat of the song and how the wipers
mimicked it.
I heard him laugh under his breath.
I continued. “The way I know he’s driving over the speed
limit, because it wasn’t windy tonight, but the rain sounds
torrential as it hits the windows.” I wetted my lips, feeling his
hand move to my hair and smooth it over and over again.
“There’s more thunder over the sea than there is over the
forest,” I said, analyzing more sounds in my head, “and it’s
getting closer to us.”
I brought my hand down, tucking both in the pocket again
to keep warm.