Disaster Queen

Before his door was completely closed he had already pushed himself back into his seat. The door slammed while he starred stone faced out the window. I asked him how he was doing and he turned slowly to face me. His eyes were soft blue yet saturated in pain. If my window had been down, one passing of the noon air would have pushed that first tear over the edge.

His arms were well rounded, he appeared quite strong. His boots were clearly worked while his hands seemed more than able to handle most difficult forms of labor. Despite his manly exterior, he seemed like a broken child. With a uniquely innocent stare he explained that his daughter had been killed a few weeks earlier during one of many tornadoes that struck his hometown.

She had just left her father's house to spend time at a friends house. She was 27 years of age. Within minutes of arriving at her friends house the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Immenent tornadoe warnings promted her and two others to move to hall way in the house. Shortly after the three of them could see huge mass of debree and wind blowing straight toward them.

Then, as quick as the tornadoe had revealed itself...it was gone. It was quiet and the house was completely destoyed.