The grey black storm clouds have moved in and hang heavy just above my head. The air is still and wet and thick, making it difficult to breath. I can’t help thinking to myself, “if only it would rain.” I imagine strong winds and a heavy downpour washing away the gloom, that has seeped into every molecule of air around me. The clouds are moving away quickly across the sky. Everything feels clean and fresh. …but no, that was just an image in my mind’s eye. The rain doesn’t come and the clouds don’t move. They just hang overhead, threatening… amused by my pain.