October 1st 1994,
11 minutes since.
It's going to get darker now. This time of year, evening gets traded in for more night. I can feel it in the howling gales. The anxiety. The inevitable tragedy. Normally on twilight's like this, when the rain is as aggressive as the wind, and the word violently stabs at my window, I get a strange sense of comfort. But tonight it's different. The storm seems calm. There's something wrong. Something. No. A lack of something. Whatever it is, it's absent. The rain stops beating against my bedroom and I'm left in dark silence. Flashing lights break in through my blinds and flood my room.