Storm Cloud Pat

the second Pat walks into the room I sense the cloud that is over her head It is gray, gloomy, full of grouse and gripes She does not have to open her mouth for me to recognize it is there a storm ready to burst open flooding the room with negativity trying to flush away all laughter and mirth I run from the room the second I see her My feelers on “ready alert” flight or fight popping in and out of my brain I know Pat, I used to live with her.