The air was sweet and humid. There was a distinctly unsettled hush about the town, the quiet, suspenseful hush of a place waiting the arrival of a storm of deadly potential. As I stepped outside to retrieve groceries from my mother's car, the tense atmosphere made my skin crawl. There were no laughing voices, no calls of chastisement from parents to children. Silence, except for the gentle whisper of trees that lined the road, speculating among themselves of the damage that could soon be afflicted to their home. I returned inside and turned my attention to television screen.
"Winds will reach 90+ miles an hour. Seek shelter immediately. Stay away from windows." The grim mesage was repeated, channel after channel, the nerve-rattling prognosis of a community that waited in silence for the storm to be upon them.
They didn't have to wait long.