(Reyes)

Charcoal Slate

The sky had darkened. The charcoal grey-green slate that it had become was more than a little unsettling. It threatened rain – heavy rain – and probably hail. The air already smelled like rain, and while there was no lightning yet, every so often, there was a grumble from above that shook the earth.

Monica hurried onward, pulling her sweater closer around her middle. She hadn't always feared storms, but she had what she believed was a healthy respect for them. The destruction a storm could cause was phenomenal. It was almost an X File in itself. Nature was fascinating.

She reached her car, cringed. She stopped hugging herself and retrieved her keys from her bag. In the moments she fumbled with her keys, the wind picked up and rain fell. The wind whipped her hair around her face, and rain soaked her coat. The key slid in the lock and turned. She slid into her seat, and slammed the door shut. The storm raged on without her.

Though she wasn't keen on the effects the elements had on her – cold chills, and a feeling like she'd never be warm again – she smiled. A hot shower awaited her. A microwaved meal and a warm bed awaited her. Even the darkest cloud had a silver lining.

Fin.