The freezing rain

The buzz of a crowded auditorium filled with people who have little to say to one another.

Silence! Your Weather-Man!

Hush.

Tonight, there will be PRECIPITATION!

Booing, hissing, scraping of chairs.

"What is it?"

If the temperature is ABOVE thirty two degrees Fahrenheit zero degrees Celsius, then it will be RAIN.

Grumbling, muttering, shuffling of papers.

If the temperature is BELOW thirty two degrees Fahrenheit zero degrees Celsius, then it will be SNOW.

Shouting, outrage, threats of revolt.

"What is the temperature now?" Loud support for the question.

Thirty two degrees Fahrenheit zero degrees Celsius.

Shock, horror, fear.

"What do we do?"

But there is nothing to be done. They all look up and see that the clouds are already clouding.

Hush. A single plaintive scream.

It is rain, but it is unaffected by the wind and it slaps their skin like little marbles dropped from a skyscraper and it stings.

"What is it?" "It hurts!" "It stings!" "It chills you all over!" "IT IS UNLIKE ANYTHING WE HAVE EVER SEEN BEFORE!"

Chaos.

Please, REMAIN CALM. This equilibrium cannot last much longer. The atmosphere will become either warmer or colder momentarily. NATURE WILL BLINK FIRST.

But the arena has already blinked, and people rush to the exits, only that the ground is rejecting them, sending them flailing into the air and tumbling down the steps.

"MOVEMENT IS IMPOSSIBLE!"

The weather-man's calls for calm are lost in the sound of panic and rain and bodies hitting cement.