School in a Storm

At first it seemed a simple May shower but as the storm rose to a crescendo she felt a deep satisfaction that the ache in her old bones had predicted the storm that continued to pummel the tin roof.

The chalk she was holding made a dry sounding screech against the board standing out from the noise of the storm like an alizarin stain on a snow white canvas. It seemed a blaspheme to have interrupted the wild winds of the storm raging outside with such an unpleasant and civilized sound.