Skyler hated hurricane season. She hated living in fear of what Mother Nature could do. She especially hated tornado season. After Katrina, she and her family had gone to help those left behind by the hurricane. It was humbling, to say the least. Those with car trouble, they’d fixed free of charge. She was willing to do it again.
The air crackled, almost as if a storm was afoot. Fortunately, the sun was clear and it was almost quitting time. Skyler set down the carburetor she’d been cleaning and wiped the rag on her hands. She’d devoted her time to the small garage she’d found and they were more than happy to take her on. Grease smudged her skin and coveralls as she wiped the sweat beading from her face when she saw a car approaching. “We’re about to close up. Is it important?” she called.













