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.

Eviction moratorium is pure theft; it’s a sign of creeping socialism
Tell me the music you listen to and that’ll reveal a lot about you
What do you love enough to want once more before life slips away?
Can we find way to separate love of home from worship of state?
I’m a liar — and you are, too; most of all, we lie to ourselves
‘Good enough’ isn’t enough if you want a relationship that will last
THE McELROY ZOO: Meet Thomas, the aloof loner of my menagerie