The sky is electric. Flashes of bright light create glinting porcelain cracks among the heavy gray clouds. Harsh, freezing drops soak through his clothes, pierce into his blinking eyes like daggers. Rivers of murky water run under his feet like the ghoulish veins of the cobblestoned street. He almost screams, but he cannot stand the sweet taste of the rain. Desperately choking back sobs, he drags his muddy feet through the growing puddles. A dark and stormy night, he thinks bitterly. How fitting for this to be the backdrop for his suffering. How very _literary _for a_ _heartbroken man to be walking alone in a monochrome city, on a dark and stormy night. He spits, wiping his dripping face with his sleeve. The clouds rumble and roar, producing discordant sounds that reverberate through the air and his skull. Violent rain continues to drum against his waterproof hood. It is as if God is weeping right along with him.