riding it out

She decided to stay behind because he’d just left and she felt as though nothing was of any use, even herself. The rain was hard – it sounded like hail was supposed to sound, she thought, though she’d never been in a hail storm. The wind whistled, mostly, accented by the slap of the front window – on the left – shutter which Earl’d loosened when he played Whiffle ball with Sonny in the front yard. She’d told them – him, Earl – that at some point it would become a problem. She turned on the radio. Everyone was supposed to move; evacuation was ordered. But she stayed. The only thing broadcasting was the alert to leave, to move. She didn’t care if she died, really, she thought, if the entire place just collapsed on top of her. She went to the kitchen counter and opened a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. She felt a warm sensation on her left foot. Dog tongue. She had an English bulldog. It’s name was Watson.