The walk from Cinema 23's back door to Pointe Place Apartments was a common one for Tyson. Although always mediocre, free movies couldn't be argued against. Tyson had dated a girl who cleaned old popcorn out of the movie seats. When the girl moved to chase her acting dream she gave Tyson a key to the back door and he hadn't paid for a movie since.
Credits rolled and the four other theater occupants stood up and left. Tyson strolled to the back door chuckling about how cliche the movie had been. When he swung the door open the wind caught it, slamming it into the wall it was hung on. "Whoa they weren't joking about this storm," Tyson thought to himself. He had heard about a storm coming but hadn't though twice about it. "Another great reason not to go to work!" Tyson yelled to himself, walking home, pushing against the oncoming winds. Tyson began to enjoy the swirling of the winds in his wild hair and against his rough face. He was counting time between flashes of lighting and claps of thunder. FLASH "1..2..3..4..5..6..7," BOOM. 7 miles away. FLASH "1..2..3..4.." POP. And just like that Tyson was knocked out by a rogue two-by-four.
As he laid on the cold cement, winds swirled, lighting clashed, and thunder pounded.
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