Darcy loves the way the city smells before the rain. The air is thick with ozone, charged and ripe with potential. It ripples like a current through her body, tickling nerve endings and making her dance. She's most alive right before a storm, dancing and singing and laughing like a child.
"Come with me," she pleads, tugging at Steve's hand. "It's beautiful outside."
"It's black outside," he says, but he allows her to pull him to his feet. "And it's going to pour."
"Since when are you afraid of a little rain?" She's walking backwards, leading him toward the steps, their clasped hands swinging easily back and forth.
"Since when are you so enraptured with precipitation?"
She laughs and spins, running down the steps and out into the street. The clouds are opening up, dropping fat drops onto her face and bare arms.
"Since I spent six months in New Mexico, and never saw one damn rainbow."
Steve catches Darcy around the waist and spins her in a circle. She tips her head further back, lost in the perfection of the moment.
Sometimes, it's necessary to embrace the dark if you want to see the light.