He looks in the mirror and sees mostly blue skies behind him. An odd occurrence, to be sure, as he remembers the sky’s fury. He knows he was just there, and his hair is still wet. But yet, blue skies and one fluffy white cloud. But then he remembers something else: west to east. One storm has passed, sure. One storm rained and moved on. He idly taps fingers on an umbrella as he sees the next thunderhead. This time, he’s ready.