It doesn’t stop raining. But my boots are still dry.
Inside out I am trying to navigate this hurricane, poring page after page of this empty map, sheltered between the remaining debris of structures.
The waves of wind and rain crash into me. Battered and weakened, I turn myself in. So I let my chest tighten and allow the flood to consume me.
And it inundates everything, surely.
It doesn’t stop raining. So I take out my biggest umbrella and trudge through the storm. Not like a champion, but out of a realization that rain or shine, I cannot stay indoors all day.
The map is blank. So I draw out my own directions. North, South, East, West. Occasionally when things go South I reroute and turn back. Again and again. Sometimes it floods again. Between the floods and long journeys there are sunsets, ones I stop to admire every time. Despite everything there is hope. There is hope.