The world disappeared for a time yesterday, the fog separating couples from one another, obfuscating minute and second hands, muffling the sounds of sweeping on the porch outside. On the roads, cars threw parabolas of water from deep, standing puddles, and honored the warning of brake lights. It was hard to recognize friends beneath slick, soaked hoods and hats.
We had become sun-spoiled and thirsty, so I had no complaints. Still, I found myself crawling into the shell of my heart by the end of it, in search of some small shelter from the storm.