I will not bore you with the weather, but Goddamn was it something worth running from at the moment. My feet keep hitting the pavement with a rhythm. The rhythm of motion and of panic.
“Ride the bounce, ride the bounce,” I say.
And I do. It’s not so much running now as it is my feet hitting and rebounding. Newton’s Laws in real world use.
“Hey, where you going?” yells a girl as I pass.
I’m dumb: so I answer. She’s the type of pretty that makes guys like me stumble on our own words.
I do well enough though.
“The storm!” Continue reading