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Smiling again, she left.Susan giggled. "Just two 'you knows, '" she said. "And six, no seven, sentences. Wow." Smart-ass," I teased her."It is, actually," she responded in kind. "Ooh, maple." Huh?" I just sat down on your French toast; that's the flavor." Yuck," I said. "Sit down on your own damn food." I will if I ever get an ass to sit down on again," she said, suddenly sour."Come on, baby," I cajoled. "Don't start that again. Just give it time." I know," she sighed. "I will. Patience, girl, patience."The girl at the front desk—yet another one; they seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of teeny-boppers in the area—told me where to go to find a shopping center with the stores I was looking for. So after breakfast I headed off in the car in the direction she'd told me.Of course my directions were a little skimpy. It was the usual when you asked a native how to get places; they were real good on the primary turns but tended to forget about things like forks in the road. I guess you. We make it to the top and hear our first claps of thunder. Standing at the top of the rock, facing death is usually breathtaking. Today, it is more so, watching the added storm clouds and lightning crack across the dark sky. Something about thunderstorms just shake me to the core. With each roar of thunder, I press myself closer to you. I am not terrified, just want to race the storm to see who can make more electricity.The rain starts. Slowly. Cold on our skin, making us wet on the outside like I am on the inside. I turn you to face me and lean up to kiss you passionately, pressing my wet body hard against yours. The wind kicks up and you bite my lip. We need to head down. Standing on the tallest point in the area in a lightning storm is not the best idea in the world. We head down the rock, part way climbing, part way sliding on the slippery limestone.We head down by the large chunks of rock that have fallen off the rock in past times. Hanging Rock stays true to its name and hangs.
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