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Mia stands on a living-room window seat, nose pressed to the glass, while Dad sits beside her, both framed by half-drawn floral curtains. Outside, late-afternoon clouds churn dark and heavy as muted indoor light casts a calm yet tense mood.
Mia pressed her nose against the window. Dark clouds rolled across the sky like giant gray blankets. "A storm is coming," Dad said gently. Mia's tummy felt funny. She didn't like thunder. It was too loud and scary. "Can we close all the curtains?" she asked in a small voice. Dad smiled and sat beside her. "How about we watch together this time?" he suggested. Mia wasn't sure, but she nodded slowly. Maybe Dad would keep her safe.
In the softly lit living-room, Mia flinches and grips Dad's hand on the couch facing the rain-streaked window. Sheets of rain drum the glass while distant thunder rumbles, their free hands mid-air counting "one, two, three".
The first raindrop splashed against the glass. Then another and another. Soon rain pattered like tiny drums. BOOM! Thunder rumbled far away. Mia jumped and grabbed Dad's hand. "It's okay," Dad said. "That sound is just clouds bumping together." "Really?" Mia asked. "Really," Dad promised. "Count with me until the next one." They counted together: one, two, three. Another rumble, but this time Mia didn't jump quite as much. Dad squeezed her hand proudly.
Mia and Dad kneel by the darkened bedroom window at night, faces lit white by a jagged lightning bolt slicing the stormy sky outside. Their widened eyes and excited smiles freeze in the electric flash, raindrops glittering on the glass.
Flash! Bright lightning lit up the whole sky. "Wow!" Mia gasped. It looked like magic. "Did you see that?" Dad asked excitedly. "The lightning makes electricity in the sky!" Another flash came, and Mia watched closely this time. It zigzagged like a bright river. BOOM! The thunder followed. "They're talking to each other," Dad explained. "Lightning flashes first, then thunder answers." Mia thought that was amazing. Maybe storms weren't just scary. Maybe they were beautiful too.
At the bright living-room window after the storm, Mia stands beside Dad pointing toward a vivid rainbow arcing above wet grass and sparkling puddles outside. Soft golden light pours through the glass, illuminating their smiles and the fading gray clouds.
The thunder grew quieter, rumbling far away like a sleepy giant. The rain became a soft patter. Then sunshine peeked through the clouds. "Look, Mia!" Dad pointed outside. A rainbow stretched across the sky in bright, perfect colors. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. "It's so pretty!" Mia breathed. "Storms bring rainbows," Dad said. "And the rain helps flowers grow." Mia smiled. She still didn't love thunder, but now she knew something special. Storms could be brave and beautiful, just like her.