What can YOU say in six sentences?
Simmering in backed-up traffic, Artie watched the clouds roll in and cursed the goddamned weather; a real rainmaker was brewing as gray clouds fattened and dropped low toward the ground, transparent shadows inching over the stalled landscape. As a kid he’d watch the sky for hours, imagined the white shifting shapes as faces and fingers, monkeys and madmen and fish and trolls, as vast mountain ranges and alien creatures, as sailboats and submarines and white-knuckled fists, just like those he now felt squeezing into his steering wheel; his blood pressure billowed but the traffic was unmoved.
A fantastic purpling cloud pushed through the other lesser ones - the rainmaker cometh, he thought – and he watched its rolling fist slowly sprout small pointy digits, each rising from knobbed knuckles, the center forming what looked to be a giant middle finger and he had to smile at his perception and their perfection. There were parts of clouds skimming about like white dots dancing before his eyes, tablet-sized like small pills, and he was struck by the question of whether or not he’d taken his heart pill before he’d left.
Artie’s hands unclenched the wheel; he heard horns honking behind him but he didn’t move. Now only a shadow himself, he stared blankly out the window, the purple hand the size of the sky descending as invisible fingers collapsed and closed around him.