Finishes on a terrible pun, but otherwise lovely. #totrblog


What if a rainstorm dropped all of its water in a single giant drop?
—Michael Mcneill

It’s midsummer. The air is hot and heavy. Two old-timers sit on the porch in rocking chairs.

On the horizon to the southwest, ominous-looking clouds begin to appear. The towers build as they draw closer, the tops spreading out into an anvil shape.

They hear the tinkling of wind chimes as gentle breeze picks up. The sky begins to darken.

Air holds wa…