El País, Sept. 22, 2005: "Rita se convierte en el tercer huracán más fuerte en la historia del Caribe"

The headline of El País read: "Rita turns into the third strongest hurricane in the history of the Caribbean."

A man who learns that another massive hurricane is coming his way and simply does not believe it. How can it possibly be true if people are still waiting on their roofs from the last hurricane?! (Why a man, I don´t know.)
He shuts himself in his one-level American-style home. Alone.
Sits in a chair, in his brown-carpeted living room.
And thinks, and reflects, calmly.
The rain is an incessant and soothing roar coming from some side of the house.
He meditates in denial.
He plays cards with himself on a small wooden table,
he chuckles at his own folly,
gets bored;
tidies up the coffee table,
gets up to turn a record on. (the stereo system belonged to his parents. )
The carpet soaks his white socks.
He sits back down and continues thinking about different things:
Person 1,
meditation techniques,
Person 2,
his youth,
Person 1...
As it becomes darker outside, he doesn't get up to turn the lights on.
Several hours later he is sitting Indian style on top of the china cabinet.
The music is barely audible over the downpour.
His thoughts have now become delusional and aggressive.
He jumps down, finds the table and
BOOM!- BREAKS IT once- and
AGAIN- CRACK!
against the cheap wood wall.
How good it felt, how good it sounded!
Staring down beyond the bobbing legs of his once table, he feels relief, he has reached tranquility, defeated..defeated what?
He takes slow deep breaths, tries to forget about the "what?"
he extends his arms and slowly brings his legs up.
He floats on his back, and the chair splinters tickle him.
His thoughts become calm again;
peaceful,
thick,
Person 1,
posthumous.