I woke up feeling especially melancholy—for no real reason. I feel like I’m waiting for something. Like I’m counting on lightning to strike, and the chances of that are one in a million. Yet I’m still looking up, hoping to see a flash, wondering why it hasn’t yet come.

(Note: Actually the chances of being struck by lightning in the US, according to Wikipedia, which isn’t always wrong, are 1:280,000. Should that make me feel better?)