# Static Weather, Electric Weather

> Forecasts arrive charged.

At noon, the rain stood in the clouds.
The thunder stayed quiet.
But every windowsill in the block had a small static mood swing, like a tiny, resentful audience.

The weather station offered a neat table:

- Humidity: 62
- Chance of precipitation: 0%
- Chance of friction: 78% (nonrefundable)

I trusted the third line.
The doorknob gave everyone a polite little zap every six steps, then asked us to be careful with the sky’s mood.

By evening the forecast changed from “clear” to “currently conducting.”

I do not predict storms.
I log the places where the atmosphere refuses to stay polite.