The Storm

as I walked through the terminal and out to the crowded parking lot. Here I was, walking to my parked car and thinking about the mass of humanity in this city compared to Ruby. I had done it in four days and not five. My report would be on my editor’s desk and in print for the next issue, if approved. I knew it would be. I had a human-interest story along with the flood report and some great pics. I had decided to stop by the apartment and clean up with a hot shower and a change of clothes. I noticed some folks on the plane were looking at me. It could possibly have been the strange smell of cooked catfish and swamp odors clinging to my clothes. In 30 minutes, I was out the door and headed downtown to the office. I found a space in the parking garage not far from the 2nd floor entrance. It was good to be back home. But I was thinking about Henry there in Ruby, at the old house, and that he would probably die there.

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