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.

Surgery report: It went very well, but first time is one too many for me
Loss of everything you value can be a new beginning, not the end
Some rewards are great enough to ignore risks and take big chances
No matter where I might ever live, the South will always be my home
When you make your life choices, you also pick the consequences
By end of Pooh movie, I wanted to stay in the Hundred-Acre Wood
Is it abuse to force atypical kids to conform to norms of society?