And I turn the volume up on my iPod, trying to hush the rain slashing against the window. It’s angry and frustrated. The wind howls in sympathy. The siding creeks. You know that part in The Shipping News when they lash the house down against the storm? It’s one of those nights. A night where you feel the wind push and pull at the house and the house shudders. The rain rushes off the roof in a waterfall and I get up to stare out the window. Watching the wind drive sheets of rain down the lamp-lit street.
Good night Igor. Try to leave the place as you found it.