The day is drawing to a close; the sun, seeping below the horizon, casts an eerie glow upon the undersides of the gathering clouds. He thinks to himself, "Looks like the weatherman was a little off in his prediction. That storm will be here a few hours earlier than originally thought. I wish I had a job where even if I was wrong 50% of the time, I'd still have a job."
His house is nestled in the middle of a quiet, densely wooded lot. The majority of his neighbors are good, honest upstanding citizens. There homes, like his are surrounded by forest: red oaks, poplar, sweet gum, and birch trees. There's the college counselor to the west, the over-the-road trucker and his civil service wife across the street, the gay couple to the west of the trucker, the city sewer manager and his stay-at-home wife to his east and the divorcee directly behind his house, the only neighbor whose house he could actually see..
The divorcee, Mary, had lived there with her husband for almost as long as he had. He maintained a friendly relationship with all his neighbors and they helped one another out, just like it ought to be. As he observed the weather outside, he noticed something not quite right with the clouds; the color didn't look right. The approaching cold front also had an up sweeping warm front travelling perpendicular to the cold front's path. This was squeezing the moist humid air ahead of the cold front. Even though it is only March on the east coast, a severe thunderstorm and even the occasional twister are not unheard of. The weather man had warned of the chance of thunder snow and a possible low forming off the coast of NC that could turn into a nor'easter. The announcement of the winter storm warning on the TV snapped him back from his thoughts.
He's glad he had that storm room built in the basement two years ago. It's fully stocked shelves included: long shelf-life milk, water, food, queen size bed, blankets, those boot warmers filled with some sort of iron filings that produced heat when exposed to air, everything one needed to remain warm, and safe until help could arrive. It was expensive, but the insurance policy took care of that, though he really missed her. His wife had passed away due to breast cancer that had metastasized to her brain and liver. By the time she was diagnosed with the aggressive breast cancer, it was already too late.
Now, two years later, months of therapy and pouring himself into his work, he was finally feeling comfortable asking women out. He'd even dated the divorcee several times in the last month. She was close in age, nearly 40, and kept herself neatly. Though she kept a busy schedule, she still took time to work-out. She was trying to rid herself of the last 20 pounds, but they were the stubborn type, not willing to budge. He didn't care though; she was attractive, had a great sense of humor and was very intelligent. She had her engineering degree and that gave them a lot in common to talk about.
The storm had him concerned. It had all the makings of the perfect storm. Thunder, lightning, wind, followed up by copious amounts of snow, were forecast for the peninsula. That basement room was looking better all the time. He called Mary to see if she had heard about the storm warning yet, "Mary, you hear about the winter storm warning yet?"
Her reply, "Yes I did. I just got back from WalMart and I have all I need."
His concern showing through, "The part that worries me, is the approaching wild weather first and then the snow; they've even hinted at the possibility of high straight line winds or a tornado before the snow."
"I didn't hear that part; that worries me some."
Ever the gentleman, "Would you like me to come over there with you?"
"Actually, would it be ok if I came over to your place? I'd feel safer knowing we could always retreat to your storm room."
