Monday night, driving south from the Target, headed home. Look over the bucolic vistas, fields of hay, barns and silos, and sigh. There's baby blue sky to the south, with clouds lightly empinkened by the approaching sunset. Smile.
Glance up and look in the rear-view mirror. Behind you the sky is an angry black bruise, all the way to the ground. And it's headed this way.
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