second strike

they were in their forties, playing soccer in the tall grass by the beach - sandy-haired and boisterous still, though out of breath, playing through - laughing, even, expelling breath when there wasn't any left to give.

lightning snaked a fraying rope down the sky & strangled one of them. he fell to the ground, knees buckling, skin spasming over his bones. he had no hair left, and a thin tendril of smoke curled curiously out of his left nostril. in the air, the exploded smell of burnt rubber. it left a coppery taste in their mouths.

none of them had ever seen someone die.