The weather radio has been blaring incessantly for the last hour. The wind against the windows sounds like a hard rain. I venture to the back porch and gawk at the clouds curling above me, black as sin. I check to make sure none of my neighbors are watching, then lift my hands, throw back my head, and imagine I command the storm. When the lightning flashes bright enough for me to see the blaze behind closed eyelids, I almost believe it.
It’s time to write.