The rain had just barely begun to fall as I settled into my chair. It was my first week being completely alone in what was now legally my house. It was my parents’ house originally, but when they died, it was left to me. It was a nice two story house with a basement, settled in open land in western Mississippi. It was a little unnerving since it was so large, but the rain was helping me to calm down.
I turned on the TV and set it to the news. The local news was warning that tornadoes were settling down in nearby counties, but reassured me that my county was safe. Relieved, I turned to another channel and tried to further relax. I had gotten through roughly two episodes of my favorite crime drama before I apparently fell asleep.
I was awoken by a knock at my door. Groggy, I stood up and made my way to the front of the house to look out the window. In front of my door was an elderly man, with a soaked flight jacket and equally soggy Bible. Not one to shun a visitor, I opened the door.
“Hi, can I help you?” I asked.
“Well, my car is broken— I think, that is. It stopped working and I can’t really work on it right now. The storm, you understand. Is it ok if I just stay in here until the storm passes?”
“Oh, well, I can give you a lift to the nearest car shop. I have a truck, I can prob—”
Warning sirens started to blare in the distance. The tornado must have touched down somewhere near me. The old man looked worried. Normally I would be hesitant about letting a complete stranger into my house, but given the circumstances and the fact that he looked to be pushing 90, I figured it was a safe bet to let him in.
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