September in the Rain

As I left the agency, the unseasonal humid air carried a whiff of ozone. The lurid clouds laden with autumn's first promised rain had rolled in unceremoniously from the Pacific. The skies turned grey with a tinge of yellow, as the late afternoon sun gasped its last resplendent moments.

Going south on route 99, the sun had relented to the dark shroud. Shards of intense lighting were flashing sinister smiles in the distant horizon. Surely, Zeus' thunderbolt was waiting us mortals. After fifteen minutes on the road, the first roll of thunder brought a splatter of heavy drops. These first warning spits pummeled the windshield. Inside the Chevy S10, the air had become humid and stifling. I switched on the air conditioning, shifted my weight, and drove head-on to Mordor South.

It was approaching chaos when I exited the freeway. Traffic lights were out at or near the on-and-off ramps. I grumbled and sighed at the circumstance briefly. While waiting for fifteen minutes to drive two blocks away from the off ramp, I thanked God and asked Him to uplift those in my circle for their health and safety.

This was the day that was. George Shearing's tune September in the Rain was definetely in order for the remains of the day. EXPIRED.