Four p.m. and the sky was the color of black Sambuca. Winds were collecting momentum, sounding like wailing pirate ghosts flitting amid Louisiana bayous, while rain had started to descend like July Fourth fireworks over San Diego Bay. The sidewalks several floors below the high-rise condo building were empty save for two lanky kids, a scooter-bound lady, and a big burly man hurrying and scurrying to drier, safer places.
Exterior lighting, obscured by the downpour, was providing minimal illumination; as a result, it was barely possible to see across the boulevard into the park and marina. Boats would be bobbing like little yellow plastic duckies in a child"s bath and waves surging like crowds of pubescent girls at a Justin Bieber autograph signing.
I"d only been living in the tenth-floor
