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.

Letting go of dead dreams can lead to path you need to follow
Best ways for man to love woman flow from how he lives every day
Mundane expressions of love matter more than movie versions
Man’s unconscious night after stroke leaves me uneasy about living alone
If our assumptions don’t match, we can clash with best intentions
The egalitarian lie: Every group has leaders, even Occupy Wall Street
By end of Pooh movie, I wanted to stay in the Hundred-Acre Wood
Please read this: If you love books and smart women, you might cry, too
Irony abounds when reader proves my point by trying to refute it