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.

Republicans edge closer to inevitable choice of Romney to face Obama
Collective freak-out over tasteless shirt points to double standard
Arrogance and stupidity go hand in hand for the coercive state
Next, this city is going to be selling lemonade and holding bake sales
‘All animals are equal, but [deaf] animals are more equal than others’
Super Suckers: Indy taxpayers take bath in red ink to build stadium
Why Santorum is wrong: When God sees sinful world, that includes U.S.
We’re neither friends nor enemies, just strangers who share the past
We’re all prisoners of a culture which demands that we conform