Holding Hands While the Walls Come Tumbling Down

So Sad They Had To Fade It

The road into the desert seems to stretch out forever.

And you're stopped at a stop sign.

To the left is a storm cloud. Gathering winds and thunder rolling across the empty spaces.

To the right is a small shack, selling fireworks.

Amazingly, the shack is open. Even though it's got to be 100 degrees.

So you park for a moment, peruse the fireworks.

The clerk tries to chat you up.

"These are the most popular," he says.

And you nod. You're not there to talk. You're there to wait out the storm.

But then the clerk looks up at the sky, apologizes, closes everything down, hops into his car, and speeds off.

And you get back behind the wheel. And slowly drive forward.

Into the rain.