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.

‘Pretense of knowledge’ leads world down a dangerous path
Cat’s ordeal reminds me that bad things happen right under my nose
Wishful thinking: Why Ron Paul can’t (and won’t) be elected president
Romantic love is part obsession, part reality — and part madness
Today’s kids learning they should fear police, not respect them
End of life brought cancer patient to baptism six days before death
Sabans remind me that choice of partner can be a key to success
Will better marketing make you love state-controlled medical industry?