Master of the Gale

I pushed past the heavy sliding screen and stepped out onto the open balcony tiles. The night air tore across the balustrade in fierce, sweeping gusts, slamming straight into my chest. Lesser things would have skittered across the concrete, but I lowered my center, dug the ridges of my boots into the tile seam, and leaned directly into the howling current. For several unbroken minutes, I stared out into the dim Lagos skyline as the rush broke harmlessly against my shoulders. Once the wind knew it could not budge an inch of me, I turned on my heel and marched firmly back across the threshold into the quiet room. The storm met the ruler, and the ruler returned home.