The Storm
I don’t exactly remember where I was at the start of the storm. I would bet I was taking a nap or getting a drink from the fridge but I woke up on the floor to what sounded like giant bricks hitting the ceiling. I started having a panic attack, this reminded me all too well of the sound of bombshells back in the war. Knowing I had to do something I wanted to make my way to the basement but my legs wouldn’t move. I wasn’t sure if it was fear of a hangover at the time but looking back it was probably a mix of both. After a piece of ice the size of a small housecat crashes through my window, I felt a rush of freezing cold air and rain. The shock of cold forced me up and to my door. I ran through the hallways along with the other occupants of Pointe Place toward the staircase. In there it is safer due to the lack of windows. I headed down the stairs trying to get to the basement. There it was damp and cold but there were lots of people and no windows. I sat down far away from everyon...