The lightning struck with a vicious hunger. The peals of thunder that followed seemed to emanate from my chest. The news the next day gave warning of landslides as the meteorological map showed the entirety of the island experiencing “extreme” weather.

Meanwhile, I’ve sat in my tiny apartment reading and thinking of new storylines to pursue. I took a break to cook a steak while the rain came down in gauzy sheets.

I’ve spent more time shirtless in this apartment than the entirety of my experiences on beaches. The humidity makes your lungs chug along like a stubborn farm truck. The heat saps you of most ambition and energy— but enough mental aptitude to recognize that you should be doing something more than watching TV.

I doubt today will bring more sightings of my new Japanese marten friend that prowls the apartment shrubbery. Nor do I think that I’ll find myself on a long walk with a landslide, thunder, gale, and ocean break warnings in effect. I am often foolish, but as I age, I tend to heed the advisory regarding inclement weather. I don’t need to gamble my mortality for such low returns.

Thus, today becomes a “Little Day,” in which I’ll remain at home and dive into ink-pressed worlds. I’ll think of long past stories that I forgot in lieu of active adventures. The stories smile at you when you peek back into old, creased pages. I carry my journals with me both to have a creative platform on hand and to reacquaint myself with past versions and their clever thoughts.