The wind came crashing through, the birds nestling in their homes. Ruffled leaves on the ground. Gloomy clouds in the sky accompanied by claps of roaring thunder. The bench's vacant. I walk alone, and I walk alone in this meadow. The air is crisp and chilly. A slight degree of acrimony intoxicating the atmosphere. Monsoon seems to be approaching. Heads up, eveything's not gonna be ok.