Thank you to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers!
In the Alley
When the barometer drops, I feel the rotation in the churning clouds. I’m itching to be with Jeff, chasing storms instead of sick in bed on my cell listening to them talk about congestion on the dirt roads. Too many novices craving tornado selfies.
“You’d hate it,” Jeff says. “It’s a freakin’ parade.”
Fear spikes. “Don’t get blocked in.”
“Me?” He chuckles.
Someone tweets: an F-4 heading south toward Jeff. The call ends. No signal.
Hail taps at the window. Debris swirls in the motel parking lot. Darkness devours. Sirens wail.
No need to chase the storm, it’s found me.