The sky remembered how to cry tonight

I was driving back from the edge of the plains when the storm finally let go—just a slow, steady rain like it’d been holding its breath for hours. The kind that doesn’t pound or scream, just settles into the land like a promise. I pulled over and sat in the car, windows down, watching the dark swell soften at the horizon. It felt less like weather and more like something old remembering itself. No radar, no chases, no data—just me, the road, and the quiet after.