Welcome Ivan

I woke to the sound of the rain pelting my window. No sweet pitter patter. It's really coming down. The rain hits the roofs like Niagra Falls. The thunder sounds like buildings are falling down. Proof: what there was of a skyline of the city is gone. Harkness is a ghost and City Hall does not exist. In the anarchy, flashes of lightning across all the gray cause epiletic seizures. The fourth floor eye-level leaves thrash back and forth protesting the pouring rain and being hung out to dry, blown by any gusting wind. Whoever's blow-drying her hair down the hall is a little out of it. There's a flood watch out. The hallway is flooded where everyone forgot to close the windows. But the storm is moving off. Now, the sound echoes the fury of the light seven miles later. Four days after the storm's come ashore, this is enough nature's power for me. As if I needed another reason to be thankful I'm not from Florida.