A man riding by on a bicycle, lets out a profanity and pedals faster as the sky unexpectedly opens up.

People scramble off of benches at the park across the way, idle chit chat turns to shrieking, newspapers become makeshift hats as they run for cover.

I see them from the doorway where I headed when I heard the wind pick up.

I watch them hurry away as I throw the door open, meet the wind head on, eager to be right in the middle of it; this hint of danger, this flexing of muscles, this opening act with something to prove, this prelude, this storm before the storm.