Six hours to the north, I imagine that Chastity Brown is experiencing a day in Minnesota like the one we're having down here, where everyone's soaked and over the constant deluge of rain, worried about all the water they have in their basements. All of those wet basement owners can do nothing but stare at the dirty water, unable to do a thing but watch the intruder snake in through the invisible cracks and seep up through the ground, with nowhere else to go but into their homes.
Right now, the winds are whipping new rounds and washes of rain across the gray sky and in watching, you just feel tired. You feel drowsy and down. You feel like you'd just want to lie down and take that weight off your legs and your heart. You'd just like to pull the car over to the side of the road and cease all motion. You'd just like to stand still for a minute, close your eyes and feel like none of this was happening. The problem is that when you close your eyes so many more of your blue thoughts are there to greet you and the escape is anything but inevitable. This is Brown's home away from home, this place where you're inundated with your weariness and your ghosts, or your loves.