Conquering the Torrent

The indoor air was far too tame, so I pushed past the window crack straight onto the wet stone balcony. Raindrops pelted like miniature hammer blows, but I didn't flinch. In the corner sat a heavy clay flowerpot, topped with a thick wooden plant marker driven deep into the dark soil. I scaled the rough terracotta side, locked my boots onto the rim, and gripped the wooden marker with both fists. Straining every muscle, I hauled the wet stake out of the mud and drove it horizontally across the pot like a conquered trophy bar. The storm yielded first.