We stared at the sky through broken roof and windows as blue turned to swirling black and back again. The rain would rage, water weeping down walls, filling shoes.
Between each downpour, a run for it would be discussed, but always the storm was back before we dared the attempt.
Michelle Podsiedlik blogs at michellepodsiedlik.wordpress.com and won’t be offended if you can’t pronounce her last name.