A crash made Kate jump. Her car horn started blaring. She walked out
to the living room and looked through the window at the driveway. Their
big palm tree was lying across the hood of her old Chevy, its roots torn
out of the ground. It made her sad to see the tree uprooted, its life ended.
Just minutes ago it had been alive, conscious, breathing, waving its worried
fronds around with the other trees. Now it was dead, just like that. How
long can a car horn go until it stops blowing? she wondered. The graceful
palm tree couldn’t even have a quiet, peaceful death. She retreated to her
bedroom. Suddenly blackout—no cell phone, no lights, no power at all.
Alone in the sweet confinement of her dark bedroom, she listened to the
typhoon rage outside her windows.
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