Flash flood, if you’re curious.
The traffic shushes wetly along, a constant hush of white noise, and every now and then the sky rumbles grumpily, punctuating with a flash of stark white light.
I know how it feels.
It’s the kind of day to sit hunkered down over the computer, the romanticism of writing merging with reality for one of those rare, rare moments. It’s the kind of day where a second cup of coffee isn’t a thought but an action, one that happens almost as though through sheer will of the cup.
It’s the kind of day for imagination, for cozy daytime darkness, for conjuring worlds far more colorful than the soggy gray one outside my window.
It’s the kind of day to vanish inside and let the the outside go just for now.
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