Rain roared off his roof in perpetual, silvery sheets. Its mania frothed the narrow gravel road, beheaded newborn flower beds, drowned thought. From the comfort of his chair, he watched a hummingbird, trapped for the duration, wheel, lunge, and zoom the length of his veranda, its dire heart rejecting the storm’s endless demeanor. “There’s patience in the rain,” he might have spoken, then promptly returned to his book.



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