The night of the typhoon I sat on your living room floor and never moved, while the tape on the windows kept letting out a thin little whistle.
The drying rack on the balcony had already gone over, somebody downstairs was taking down a shop sign, and every fridge in the building went quiet at once, quiet enough to hear the rain keeping time on the metal roofs.
You crouched in the kitchen with a camping burner going, and that small flame turned the wall orange while steam kept escaping from a lid that would not sit right.
Every light on the street was dark that night, and I stayed in that orange corner the whole time, thinking I had somehow moved into the brightest apartment in Taipei.
Best used for: Save it for a storm, a blackout, or any quiet night in, and say it slowly without looking over at them.
Variations (2)
- The whole city lost power that night, except for one wall lit by a camping burner.
- The wind rattled every window, and the sound I kept was a lid that wouldn't sit right.