The storm charged toward the shore, and Elizabeth knew it wouldn’t be long. Time could not be wasted. Still, she sat on the porch in the same place it all started.

Zim heard whispers on the other side of the door as he put his key in the lock. He stopped. A chill crept down his back like tentacles from an icy jellyfish.

The other day I was reminded of a story about Marty and Chris, two young entrepreneurs. They decided lemonade stands reminded them too much of archaic, outdated business models that made average homogeneous products (Ok, this is my version of the story).