The weather man said there was tornadoes coming to the counties of Jasper, Lake, and Newton ’round ten o’clock. Winds kicked up and the sky turned gray. Rain was falling. The dog hid under a table.

They kept the TV on. Maps ‘cross the screen showed colors of green, yellow, and red. Newton was covered in red. A tornado had not hit the county in years. She crossed herself, he opened another beer.

Trash was blowing all in the yard. There’ll be a mess to clean up tomorrow, the old man said. The recycle bin which was never used lifted off the pavement and carried on down the street. Night-time was creeping in.

She sat there on the couch with one eye glued to the television and the other to the clock on the wall; an old cukoo-cukoo clock that still told time. She waited for the bird to crow.

And ten o’clock came. There was no sound. The smell of farmland was strong. Rain had stopped. People came out of their houses and stood on porches, looking all ’round.

We dodged that one, the old man said. She crossed herself again. He walked down the street waving at neighbors; collecting trash along the way; debris in one hand and an Old Style in the other. He rolled the recycle bin back to his yard. Placed some trash in it and went inside.

It was God’s will, his wife said. He lit a Camel and nodded his head. It was God’s will.