Rainy Day

I hustle to Katie's office with our dinner - four slices of pizza - as the rain gathers like an angry mob, spitting on us to get its courage up before the rampage.

By the time I'm upstairs, the clouds are dumping manhole covers from the sky. The Empire State Building has disappeared in seething, viscous gray that explodes with lightning and shattering thunder.

Katie and I watch the catastrophe from the conference room on the 12th floor, "Maybe we'll be late to the show."