The sky is green, and no, I’m not hallucinating.
The color of the sky was my first clue that perhaps the gods decided I was too happy today. I knew I should’ve picked a fight over the empty coffee pot this morning to offset the amazing sex we had last night. Things were going too well, and now we are going to be punished.
“You see that, too, right?” I ask from where I’m standing at the front window.
Behind me, Ember hums casually, like the sky does this all the time, and he’s not worried about it one bit.
“Yes.”
“That’s not normal, is it?”
“No.”
“You’re full of answers this morning. Very helpful. Thank you.”
The wind picks up quickly, rattling the old window panes. The trees bend as if they might snap in half. I’m trying hard not to worry too much, but it’s hard when the universe is throwing literal trees around.
My phone lets out a shrillBEEEEEEEEP!Making me jump a mile high. I check the screen, already knowing what it’s going to say.
TORNADO WARNING. SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY.
“Fuck,” I mutter faintly as my heart stutters in panic.
The lights flicker. Once. Twice. Then everything shuts off. The entire building thrown into darkness.
Somewhere upstairs, something metallic clangs loudly.
I hate this so much.
“That was probably the gutters. They were old and needed replacing anyway, so it’s not a huge loss,” Ember says, his normally tan face pale with worry.
Thunder cracks so loud that the walls vibrate, and that’s when I truly begin to freak the fuck out. Not a full-blown meltdown, but close. My brain is listing everything that could go wrong and how much it’ll cost to fix if we happen to live.
Old building.
Large windows.
Caskets.
A couple of dead bodies.
“Closet,” Ember calls out.
“The fuck?” Why is he talking about a closet when we are about to be flattened by a tornado?
“The supply closet under the stairs. There are no windows, so we should be safe.”
I know he has the right idea, but I’m frozen in terror. The wind howls, picking up in speed and volume. Something big slams into the side of the house, making me jump a mile high.
Ember takes my hand firmly.
“Come on, Habibi.”
We half-run through the dark hallway as the building groans from the weight of the storm. I hope the house will be okay. I’ve grown attached to its weird way of communicating.
By the time we squeeze into the narrow supply closet, my heart is pounding loud enough that I can’t even hear the tornado over the sound of it beating.
Ember calmly shuts the door, and the darkness swallows us completely, shrinking the space even further. There are shelves, cleaning supplies, and a folded step ladder.
