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First published July 16, 2026
Only then did I realize that a tornado was trying to form within a few hundred yards of me. Before I could get to my feet and orient myself, a hand gripped my collar and yanked me upright.
A humored voice hit my ears. “Come on, Dorothy. Time to split before someone drops a tornado on you.”
I loved chasing storms, but I wished to be anywhere else at that moment. With Gale. Alone.

"How much pressure did Olivia put on him? Was this normal? It worried me to consider what he held inside. If I saw the cracks in his facade-a guy who had known him only a short time-then how compromised was his foundation? Storms were not meant to be contained or controlled. They had the power to devastate landscapes and leave buildings in ruins. What might they do to a person's mind?"Despite Oz's surface-level image (an attractive, cocky playboy with all the rizz a front man needs to have), James created this intuitive, thoughtful guy who quickly sees through the cracks in Gale's anxiety-ridden antisocial persona. He figures out where he's gone wrong in his approach with Gale and fixes it, becoming his supporter and champion.
"I aimed my camera at Ozrik, backing up to encapsulate a broader perspective. This was him. The man who reflected nature. Who was the storm itself. I didn't know if his energy would translate, but to be present, to witness it, was a privilege I would take with me."Gale, filled with anxiety, self-doubt, fear, and an ongoing crisis about his relationship and the presence of God in his life, finds strength in Oz. Although he's hidden away from all the storms inside him, he's drawn into the eye of the man he sees before him, and it helps him grow.
"A gentle caress from the fingers of God. Maybe. Wouldn't that be nice? He was out there. Somewhere. Everywhere. If I closed my eyes and prayed, I could almost believe He still cared. God lived in the rustling of the leaves, in the pleasant birdsong before the sun crested the horizon. He existed in the rich scent of ozone after a rainstorm. He inhabited the ocean, sang at the tops of the mountains, and burrowed deep underground with the earthworms. But I was never quite sure if he walked beside me like the man on the beach in the poem. I wished for it."Even though this was a different kind of conflict than I usually see in the stories I read, I felt like James included Gale's faith in a way that gave his character more depth instead of it straying into any territory that felt divisive or like a message was being shoved at us through the character.
“Fuck. Do you feel it?”
“What?”
“The electricity.”
I didn't understand.
“Zap, Gale. Every time.”