The rain rapped hard against the kitchen window and added volume to the pools that slowly filled in the divots of our front yard. The knocks on the glass acted almost in unison with the annoying and repetitive key tapping that nearly killed you.
Worse yet, the process of squeezing my brain for thoughts continued until it was a desolate wasteland and my dead eye cavities thirsted for nourishment.
“Dude! Go outside. That rain’s not a mirage.”
BLONDE ON BLONDE 