Welcome to #WednesdayWords where I share a snippet of a story using yesterday's word from the New York game, WORDLE. Yesterday's WORDLE was COVER.
I woke in the middle of the night to find
Buster trying to burrow underneath me.
“What is it?” I muttered. “You can’t want
to go out. You did that right before we went to bed, remember?” We had both
been cold, wet, and miserable beneath the umbrella while I had waited for him
to take care of business.
The dog whimpered and wiggled his snout
under my back. I grabbed his collar and wrenched him out from under the covers.
Then I heard what he heard: rumbling that sounded like a building beneath a
wrecking ball.
I stood. The icy floor and frigid air
took my breath and let me know the power must still be out. I trotted to the
window but saw only the dark night and shadowy, dancing trees. Clouds covered
the moon and stars. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed.
Quivering, Buster burrowed beneath the quilt
again.
“Some watchdog you are.” I climbed in
beside him and tried to sleep.
The next morning, a weak sun sent beams
through the window as if to apologize for last night’s storm. I glanced at my
phone and saw it had died during the night even though it had been plugged in.
I listened for the hum of the refrigerator and heard nothing but the call of
birds beyond my window.
“What time do you think it is?” I asked
Buster.
The sun barely skimmed the treetops, and
I guessed I would probably be in time for Mr. Gerard’s bath if I hurried.
Shivering, I padded into the bathroom,
turned on the shower, and was met with an icy blast. No hot water?
Back in my bedroom, I pulled my jacket
over my sweatshirt and tugged on a pair of wool socks. Clothed, I trotted down
the stairs. Buster followed; his snout pressed against the back of my calves. I
let him out into the backyard and took note of the storm’s damage. Fallen
branches, scattered and soddened leaves, and an old tin bucket that must have
blown in from somewhere littered the ankle-high grass.
Buster did his thing, wiped his paws, and
trotted back to the porch. Together, we went into the kitchen. A lifeless
coffeemaker and a silent fridge greeted us.
I poured kibble into Buster’s bowl and
grabbed myself an apple from the fridge. I shivered into my scrubs, got ready
for the day, bid Buster goodbye, and gave thanks for the Honda’s functioning
heater.
The dashboard display told me I had
thirty minutes before my first appointment. I plugged in my phone before
putting the car in gear. I frowned at the downed branches blocking the driveway
before climbing out to clear my path to the road.
Jordan Trail, though, wasn’t in any
better shape than my own property. I bounced over the smaller fallen branches
and had to get out of the car every few feet to toss the larger debris off the
road. I rounded a corner and slammed on my brakes.
A massive landslide the size of a
semi-truck blanketed the road.
I wouldn’t be going anywhere. At least
not in my car.
“It looks like Mr. Gerard won’t be
getting his bath today,” I said to no one.
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