Thick clouds hung low over the city, purple-black giants whose roiling shapes attempted to swim past the clawed fingers of the up-reaching skyscrapers, but instead found themselves caught on those same spires, and were torn open. They bled down a cold, splattering rain that left nothing sheltered from the deluge, making the world a glistening, gray mass, wet and seething with the huddled masses of people in the midst of their hurried lives.
The public drove through black lakes on the macadam, hustled beneath sodden umbrellas, and crossed crowded lanes of soggy traffic. Hookers peddled their bodies like the vendors selling hotdogs and pretzels, everyone trying to shield their wares from the downpour.
Only an hour ago, people were seeking relief from the oppressive heat of the scorching summer afternoon, but the rain was no longer refreshing; Mother Nature had gone from soothing to striking, and the world lay drowning beneath her outrage.
I lay in my bed, listening to it battering the roof. The occasional drip would splash against my forehead, and I swear I heard The Four Horsemen riding down from the heavens.
Personally, I wanted to curse the heavens, but I suppose now, looking back, that it was their turn to curse me.