The first real storm of the season

I’ve been waiting for this one since last October. The supercell formed just past dusk, not where the models said it would—out in that flat stretch near the old gravel pits. I drove out with no plan, just a full tank and a cracked windshield that lets in the wind like a confession. When the wall cloud dropped, I didn’t move. Just sat there, watching how the rain didn’t fall straight—more like threads pulled from a loom. It didn’t touch the ground until the very end, then just… stopped. Like it remembered something it wasn’t supposed to. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Maybe because I fi