As I write prairie, weather sometimes becomes a character with as much effect on human outcomes as my imagined people. The GirlieOnTheEdge six-sentence blog challenge word this week is atmosphere.

When he’s done yelling and screaming, he trundles off to bed and I stalk the house.

I feel the atmospheric pressure change; the screaming wind stills suddenly and I know what that means.

In the dark, I step outside to watch seething clouds above the house, where they swarm and churn.

I wish myself part of them, lifted out over the prairie, a swirling of atoms.

A spiral sorts itself out—a little, black tongue drops and recedes, moving to the northeast, dropping again, and I know someone not far away will lose something tonight.

In this house, for the first time, I’m allowing myself to recognize that it’s already lost.