The rain falling in cyclonic waves beat against the corrugated tin roofing. It hits the pavement making that popping and sizzling sound—much like when someone is frying bacon. From the twisting cloudy heavens, streaks of lightning illuminate the clouds…like spidery handwriting as the light makes its way to the ground. A second later a screaming boom reverberates, something akin to an exploding velociraptor; the noise fills the skies and empty spaces between the buildings.
The heavy scent of moisture permeates the very air, and fills my lungs with sweetness. I drink it in like warm broth.
The skies are calling…they beckon me to slip out into its downpour.