(Ok, here it is)
In Atlas's opinion there was nothing more satisfying than a thunderstorm. The bight flashes of light fallowed by the rolling thunder and then there was the rain. The rain was therapeutic in its own way. Washing away the dirt, dust, and grime from the world, making everything new again. She walked though the streets unfazed by the storm. Everyone else ran for cover, Atlas took comfort in the cleansing and almost spiritual experience of the storm.
"Beautiful ain't it" A voice from behind Atlas said "Nothing like a good thundah storm am I right"