The Storm   Jaz'rin listened to the gentle patter of rain
thudding quietly against the glass. The sound gave him a
melancholy ache. It was a sound that should be shared, enjoyed
while they were wrapped together, whispering things to each
other that only they could understand. He leaned his chin into
his hand and yearned silently for that which is only a dream, a
wish. He watched the pattern the rain made on the glass of the
window and thought of her. He wondered what she was doing. Was
she safe? Warm? Was she happy where she was? And one last almost
desperate question invaded his thoughts. Was she thinking of
him?  A tear slipped down his face, across the angular slope of
his cheek. He let it fall, wishing that he could let free his
sorrow and loneliness but knew that he was in a misery of his
own making. He must be strong. He must be steadfast in his
resolve to do what he had to do. The lightning flashed again and
he started. A shadow, strange and foreboding, appeared in the
entry of the room. His hand searc