Gerald meandered across the field to reach the pole, distracted at Bette’s effort to plan his weekend retirement party. He and the wife felt too tired to imbibe much, but the young-uns were bound to drink a bit.
Last night’s ice storm knocked out all service. His last days on the job spent fixing people’s power access, he pulled his Carhart closed.
“Damnable cold weather,” he thought. “Not fit for man nor beast out here!”
He didn’t notice that downed live wire until his wet bootheel was to land on it. The phone in Gerald’s pocket rang and rang unanswered.
photo credit: Ian Livesey via Flickr
Did not expect that, and you warned me.
Oh, the uncertainty and unfairness of life. I just wish I could change things up and go happy and light sometime. 😉
Thanks for always reading, Tara!
I think writing dark is a wonderful, cathartic exercise. Keep doing you.