The sky, which has slowly been coalescing clouds with a darkening array of hews all day yesterday, has finally opened up, letting out all its built-up tears and sputtering down in bursting sobs. The air is sticky and warm like sweat trickling down the skins of the earth. A tropical storm with a fury of a heartbreak and the last sorrowful rains of a heartache. Such a beautiful catastrophe, cleansing the earth of the residue of the sky’s last love of sunlight lost in the clouds of the sky’s growing torment. The humidity clings to me as if the atmosphere were trying to shed its skin. The warm rain tastes like teardrops on my tongue—happiness and sadness intermixed.