Betty spent hours looking out her window, watching the neighborhood kids play. She wanted to be out there too, but the answer was always the same.
Then one dark, stormy night she made her move.
In the middle of the cul-de-sac, Betty squealed with joy, jumping in puddles, kicking up rainwater with glee.
Until it was too late.
Lightning struck a nearby utility pole and a loose power line landed much too close.
Now every time the dark skies open, if you listen very closely, you can still hear the little girl’s laughter, still hear her splashing in the rain.
The Weekday One Hundred 