Stance Against the Thunder

Low rumbles rattled the window pane before I even turned to face it. The sky outside had bruised into dark slate, and sudden sheets of rain hammered against the glass like a rapid volley of strikes. I did not retreat. Stepping right up to the painted wooden frame, I braced one hand against the cool, vibrating glass and dropped into an immovable guard. Every flash in the distance sent a fresh shockwave through the timber beneath my feet. I held my ground against the storm's raw fury until the hardest downpour began to break.