The gas station at the corner of Division and Damen. Post-work. Post-Pilsen. Post-buzzed-sweaty-bike-ride home. Post-beergarita. Post-Laura, post-Britny, post-Jim. A pack of cigarettes and a book of matches. The wind wouldn’t let us burn our lungs; the electric tension in the air should have been enough to light up. A well-timed cab regulates the level of cotton and jean aridity. Take us to Greektown. And not long after, “Remind me again why we came here.” Another four wheels home. Philosophical waxing, as if it would reach long-term memory.

Just as irregular raindrops can foreshadow the coming storm, the irregular shards of lightning striking the skyline foreshadow as well. Just as a few small raindrops lead to something grand, a few small nights out can lead to something magnificent. Welcome back, Lou.