and the popcorn and the chocolate, we meant to head home, truly we did. But around the corner continuous lightning arrested us, like War of the Worlds in Denver’s northeastern suburbs. The sky vibrated with light but hardly any thunder. We took shelter in the truck, watching through the windshield.

Pedestrians and cyclists passed us going both directions, not looking up. If they noticed at all, they thought the light was made by humans, not storms.

Listening to police radio via the iPhone, we felt enchanted by the distant voices calling to “triage these cars” out of the flood. By a simple freak of nature and the human response.

Did it have something

to do with the Divine

chocolate we ate?

At last we had enough. But the city wasn’t quite ready to let us go. Driving toward the highway, we saw Cherry Creek had drowned the sidewalks that hem it in. “Class V rapids in Denver,” Todd joked, and stopped in a parking lot. I tripped down there to take a photo and surprised two men sitting on the wall. We eyed each other until I raised the camera, not in their direction.

On Facebook we note the storm.

Is nothing strictly interior now?