Thunder rolled overhead. As approaching storms went, this was a big one. If the forecasts were correct, the storm would loom ever closer and continue its ponderous rumblings well into the night. Almost like in one of those novels where the manor on the moor got a surprise visitor on that one dark stormy night, who turned out to be implicated in an overly ornate plot whose slow unraveling somehow transpired at a sustained breakneck pace once it got going

Putting out her cigarette, she stopped pondering the storm, and closed the window. The play was about to start, and she had every intention of acing the opening line

I Ching sign: 1