There is a storm on the horizon. Under his feet, he feels the thunder after lightning rips the darkness asunder. The electric tingling is not the storm chaser desire. He knows she is out there with only a slicker and a camera between her and Mother Nature’s fury.
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Peals of laughter rolled across the yard and through the living room window. They were playing tag.
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He slammed the cabinet. The faucet was running, spilling over the top of the pot. He left it on as he poured the water into the coffee maker.
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He punched buttons on the console. The robot shuddered to life and took its first tentative steps before crumbling into a heap of circuitry.
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She winced slightly as the blade drug across her forearm.
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