January 1, 2007
The sky was gray today. The clouds hung low, looking like soft concrete. The impression was of some cosmic big box store that had taken possession of the aerial real estate and was hanging suspended over my world, horizon to horizon. This new neighbor sported neither doors nor windows, nor logo over non-existent entry, nor bright red letters spelling out a short, catchy all caps name. Instead of an easily read and remembered short syllable identifier, no words revealed anything of the goods being vended within. I suspected the stock in trade was rain, and before dusk was proven correct.