Overhead, the waves rolled ever stronger. The storm was strengthening and could be heard over the din of the city. As the morning progressed and the streets became even more filled with workday travelers, school children, and home-body shoppers, a few looked up and were thankful for the dome.
Only one small boy was there, standing with his mother on First Street, to see the first crack.
My first offering for the Visual Fiction prompt, found here.