Dark clouds were rolling in, we could feel it on campus. The wind was picking up, and while professors made up excuses to cancel classes and went to be with their families, the student body was less than hunkered down. Frantic administrative emergency emails were sent out and then sort of just stopped coming, but we did not concern ourselves with what this might mean. The air smelled sweetly of inevitability, and the buzz about the student center was faint but pulsing.
"I think this might be the real end," Jesse said to me as we shared a cigarette in his car with the windows up. We regarded the horizon, which was gloomy and approaching fast.
"Yep," I said, and then, because we were young, "should we hit up the liquor store?"
Jesse smiled, resigned. A storm was coming, and when it hit we would all dance close to the windows.