L appeared in the kitchen door as I was doing dishes, talking on the phone. I looked over, and she mouthed something I couldn’t hear. I leaned over and cupped my ear. She tried again “The news says it’s going to be a tornado. We should find shelter.” I looked at her, my hands dripping, the water still running. Where the hell would we find shelter?

The power flickered out a few minutes later, and soon the rain, which had been flooding in around the front door, began to abate. Against the advice of the storm radio that L had found in the closet, I went outside and in to the street. Reddish clouds circled beneath a dark sky. The insect chirr of a normal night had gone quiet; replaced by a dreamlike blanket of silence.