Flap

A menacing sky.

Rain. No rain. Rain. No rain. And then nightfall.

The wind hitting you like arrows. The wind hitting the rain. The rain hitting the wind.

Street lights looking like amoeba through the rain on your glasses. A sense of looseness. A losing of gravity. And a gaining of momentum.

But before it all, a flock of pigeons. Flying. Not flying. Flying. Not flying. When the skies roared.

Before it all.