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What do you guys think of opening my short story with this:
Jack cracked the mini blinds and looked into the night-dark street. Wind pumped water against the house in bursts and fits; it was a regular drenching, a Missouri monsoon, a black river down Handan street. It was a water park ride, and had it not been sixty-two degrees and full of lightning and hail and of a rather displeasing texture, Jack would have hurled himself down the street in his swim trunks with his legs in the air as the water carried him off to black oblivion.
Jack cracked the mini blinds and looked into the night-dark street. Wind pumped water against the house in bursts and fits; it was a regular drenching, a Missouri monsoon, a black river down Handan street. It was a water park ride, and had it not been sixty-two degrees and full of lightning and hail and of a rather displeasing texture, Jack would have hurled himself down the street in his swim trunks with his legs in the air as the water carried him off to black oblivion.