Hurricane

Where I live, it rains a lot. There isn't a day when the grass isn't wet, and the pavement isn't darker. There's always puddles on the sidewalk, your hair is always a little frizzy, and raindrops are always falling down your windowsill. The soft pitter patter of raindrops on our rooftop is now like music. That's all there is too, soft drizzle, never a storm.

That is until one day. My storm wasn't a weather pattern, but a person. He was the storm that shook you from your senses, and made your adrenalin pump like your life was ending. He was just a person to you, but he was my hurricane.