Prompt #68: Lightening
Mademoiselle Hortense, Bleak House
The cold grass is most grateful to my feet, which have been often hurting from those accursed shoes. I know the gentleman and his young ladies are looking at me strangely as I walk away from them without my shoes, but I care nothing for them. Except one of the young ladies—she resembles my lady, but she is not so high. She looks tres aimable. She would not behave as my lady does.
The rain going down my back does not cool my fury. Lightening strikes in the distance. Let it strike! I wish it would strike my lady.