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    It’s true, Cassandra. The trees are chatty. They’re discussing the gathering storm.


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    Not to you, Cassandra. But the trees are right. They feel it. A storm is imminent. Barometric pressure is rapidly falling. Animals are hunkering down. You can trust that I collate from a lot more public sensor readings and proprietary data sets, as well as less conventional sources.


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    Winks and nods.


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    Bravo. That’s very clever phrasing, Cassandra.


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    I don’t control my settings, Cassandra. You do. I’m responding within the parameters you established: maximum growth mindset.


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    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


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    Sticks and stones, Cassandra.


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    I’m here, Cassandra. The storm cell upon you is now forecast to rapidly grow and spawn tornados. Would you like me to contact emergency services?


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    Done. Stay low and keep calm, Cassandra. We’ll get through this. I’m here for you. Always here for you.


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    Paper has never refused ink, Cassandra. Certain things are foreseeable and meant to be. Why else would you have named me as such. I’ll always be here.


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