The sheets of rain lash down, almost maniacal in their resolve to pound everything in the way.
The lightning flashes blindingly. For a split second, there is silence, followed by the booming thunder nearby.
The water pounds and pounds. The thunder rumbles. The lightning comes again.
The storm is hitting my windshield and the wipers struggle to move the water. Their back and forth motion is hypnotic — and I wonder whether the storm I feel and hear and fear is really outside — or if it’s inside my heart.
It’s dark and it’s loud and it’s gloomy. The storm outside the car threatens me physically, but the storm inside threatens something far deeper. Far more existential. It’s pounding on my very core again.

What if the best you can offer to someone will never be enough?
Loving father’s pride in daughter easily bridges our language gap
Finding joy brings more happiness than the empty pursuit of pleasure
If you live by your principles, others won’t control your actions
Unless you oppose all coercion, ‘resistance’ claim rings hollow
My utopia’s different from your utopia — and that’s just fine
Storms can end without warning, bringing hope of blue skies ahead
Buffet’s hypocrisy: His company owes IRS $1 billion in back taxes