As the sky began to darken, his pulse quickens. He has to get home before the storm. He runs to his car, fumbling for his keys. He drops them, but quickly recovers and dives into his car.
He shoves the key into the ignition, pushing it forward. The car only coughs. Panic starts to rise dangerously close to the surface.
He pumps the accelerator and tries starting the car again. The engine splutters into life. His body relaxes slightly. But then he sees a lady walking down the street with her umbrella open over her head.
He jams the gear shift into drive and squeals his tires pulling away from the curb. He speeds the whole way to his residence, not even thinking about the possibility of a ticket.
He skids to a stop in front of his house and runs to his door. He barrels inside and not a moment too soon.
As he slams the door behind him, he hears the first sounds of thunder. He yelps like a wounded dog and skitters into his bedroom, sliding under the bed. He couldn’t seem to get over his astraphobia.