The day started with Nathan shooting a dart in the bar striking the bullseye. A few bystanders cheered him, one raising his refilled jug of the local ale. He smiled lightly and waved the appreciation. There was a long rumbling storm outside, and it seemed to have carried on for days at this point, changing from a bland and moody person moping around, to a roaring wave striking steel and starting flames.
The power went out at seven, the whole day seeming like the blackness of midnight. The boom of the thunder was mute to his ears, far away from any energy of a cheering crowd or a crying woman. Nathan left the establishment in the slow and somber flurry of people that had been captured for a week at this point, for all he knew.
His blazer was getting soaked through, seeping his button-up shirt. Though his hands were cold and his feet were sloshy, he didn't mind it at all, making his way down the street. There was general trash and debris flowing throughout the town, going down the drains and piling in the corners. He then saw an old poster of his, one where he and his wife were standing proudly together; the idea of leading the state still fresh in their minds. He had figured all things of that nature had already been washed away.
He entered the small building he was renting out, placing his wet clothes on the floor of the tiny compartment for his laundry. He turned the radio to life, and the tunes of a sappy jazz band filled the air and invaded the soft thumping of the storm outside. The radio crackled and popped, the signal weak in such a madness of water and cold air. He, half content, sat on the bed and listened. There was very little to go on in his days now, different from all the storms that had been on the sunny and shiny days from what seems a dozen years ago.
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