I'm posting this because some descriptions and imagery will not leave my head. Unfortunately, the words aren't behaving and landing on the page, so this is a sort-of compromise between myself and my muse.
Yesterday, there was a thunderstorm. The dog and I trembled, radio drowning out the sound. I couldn't help thinking that the sky was a pale, domed ceiling, like a broken egg shell. Light beyond the curtains flashed, the occasional raindrops tickling the glass. And the sunny pop songs continued to wail, as the sky-dogs growled menacingly and I tried to convince a vibrating fur-ball that the world wasn't about to end.
