Thunderclouds and rain

A storm is brewing. I can feel it, the air is sticky, heavy, dead. Clouds are gathering, thickening and blocking the light. Edging out the sun, sky and hope. There will soon be sparks, loud claps, the violence of summer. I shudder at its approach. I do not desire this storm. I dread it. I look with gloom at the gathering dark, I cringe as the first drop of rain hits my cheek. The wind picks up, and it is here. There is no escaping this storm.

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