Excerpts and Indolence

All week I've been palm-to-foreheading myslef for my negligence to update this blog on any regimented schedule (aka at all). There were a couple ponderings I intended on pontificating about, but naturally the second I sit down to write them, my mind becomes a gray, mushy blob. Er.. wait? Never mind. Suffice to say, I forgot them. In substitute, I've provided the beginning of one of my stories which, like a million others, fizzled out quite undramatically. The rub is that I approved of this opening, but practically nothing to follow. If anyone wants to write the rest, I'm game.

Rain fell on the field. Heavy blankets gusted westward along the sun bleached grass, overgrown and bending in the wind. Drops rattled percussion on the roof and splintered across the windshield. Newly formed streams carved pathways between the clumps of summer dust and residue.
The peaceful rhythm of rain was interrupted by a crack of thunder nearby. The car rattled briefly, awakening its passenger, reclined and asleep in the driver’s seat. The rain continued swirling as she breathed in long, steady breaths, coming to life with the world of the waking. From underneath dark hair, her eyes watched as the drops continued battling against the pane. The collected pollen and splattered insects had been cleansed away. A blurry, hardly translucent image of the empty expanse lay ahead. Beyond the field were an undisturbed line of poplar trees. Barely visible, she could make out their thick, contrasting green from behind the veil of the rain, bubbling and popping as larger drops began colliding amongst the smaller vibrations, like the shake of maracas welcoming in a celebration.
But this was not a celebration. This mere chance of a summer thunderstorm did not seem chance at all. Instead, it was as if the rain knew, and had arrived for that purpose. This was goodbye.