On Friday night, I was relaxing at the apartment when I heard a knock on the door and nearly jumped out of my skin. I wasn’t expecting anyone, or any deliveries. I slipped off the couch and reached under it to get my baseball bat.
The knock got louder, then louder again, and a voice I recognized joined it. “Sandi! I know you’re home; your car is outside!”
Read moreMy safe was exactly how I expected to find it. The car title was exactly where I left it. Reading it gave me no new clues. Then again, I did not actually have the expertise to know if there was anything wrong with it before I even put it in the safe.
Before I could work up the nerve to call the Douglas County treasurer, I heard the key in the lock of my front door.
Read moreOur trunk kit held a handful of meteorological instruments connected to a laptop. Barometer, anemometer, thermometer, and so on. We also had a helium canister and a single balloon issued by the NWS, just in case we saw a significant event.
These things were secured as we bumped and rolled down state and U.S. highways. Eventually, we turned west again to approach the storm head-on.
The shelf cloud glowed ominously with the sunset behind it.
Read moreI answered. “Mr. Brower, how nice to hear from you.”
“Not really, girly.” I heard him cough. It sounded awful. “Damage report: The floods backed up the septic, but my homeowners insurance is fighting with my business insurance, and neither is willing to put me up anywhere if I evacuate.”
“Goodness, how awful.”
He coughed again, a nasty, hacking sound. “Well, it is what it is, but I need to go to the city today and I hoped I could talk to you. Got a business proposition for you, girly.”
Read moreAnd then I found Mama crying in the living room.
“Baby,” she gasped, between sobs. She reached for a tissue and blew her nose, loud and wet.
I was confused. Mama never cried. She was always the picture of poise next to Daddy.
I stood, frozen at the threshold between the foyer and the living room.
“Daddy’s plane crashed.”
I gripped the purple folder tighter.
“He’s not coming home.”
Read moreIt was a text from Charlie, my boyfriend: Where are you?
I sat it my car and sighed. The atmosphere was warm and humid, so I started up the car and blasted the AC before I replied: Finishing up a damage assessment.
Sure enough, my phone buzzed again: I wouldn’t have to ask if you just turned on the Location Sharing App.
Frowning, I considered not replying at all.
Read moreWelcome to What’s In My Pockets! This site was inspired by a common theme among my coworkers finding random remnants of the day in their pockets. Sometimes it’s just a pen, or a note, or something more interesting like a key. Every items has a story, and each one could be a dramatic reveal.
I’m Sandi Kay, and I’ll be using this site to post fictional stories as well as non-fiction essays about the process of writing itself.
Enjoy!
