20 - Small Talk about the Weather

Mornings it‘s clear. The sun shines so bright you don’t want to stand under it. People go out on their balconies to look at everything all lit up. If you’ve woken up on the right side of bed then the passersby seem to have a healthy glow. Greens are darker here, as if richer with all the sun and water they’ve absorbed.

By eleven the clouds press in, making it all much dimmer. They’re drawn in by the heat. All the air’s been scorched out, so the sky’s gone cross.

Soon the rains start. At first it’s just the odd drop, each fat as a cherry. You get soaked quickly, even when it’s coming down light. One drop hits you and half your shirt is drenched.

The clouds flash. Then the thunder becomes audible. At first it’s a distant rumbling, like tables and chairs being dragged around the room above. Suddenly a brighter flash is combined, at once, with an almighty crash. This thunder’s as loud as a plane taking off right by you, but in one sudden boom.

By the time it’s dark, the rain is streaking down, a hundred thousand drops hitting every square foot. The roads run with streams of water escaping. The racket of raindrops hitting tin roofs is so great that you have to speak right up to be heard. It rains all night.

When you wake up the sun’s out again.

Task: To write for 5 minutes then spend 5 minutes editing whatever I was left with.