Standing on the precipice, it was easy to sense the oncoming storm. Electricity frizzled through the air, almost touchable, almost audible. Darkness enveloped the land like a warm blanket, casting everything in shadow. High humidity caused hair to poof, as though each person was in permanent contact with an electric current. What was most unnerving was the quiet.

Each animal seemed to have gone to ground or taken shelter. No birds chirped their morning songs. Dogs didn’t bark at neighbours or mailmen. Cats curled up and did not run amok. All was quiet, eerily so. The sense of Mother Nature yearned for the thunderstorm. Trees and plants spread wide, ready to welcome the rain with glee. The wind picked up, singing a song as old as time through the branches and grasses.

Chaos would surely break, but not yet. Now was the quiet before the storm.