Something small for the time to keep the fire burning.
There was a storm coming.
But there is always a storm coming isn’t that right?
Alas this one was different. Bigger.
It needed special supervision.
Jackson put the cigarette back on his lips.
He observed silently.
Blackness was descending from the sky, gulping small towns and large cities, shutting their lights off, inviting insecurity and fear to dine with their citizens. It was time to go.
Jackson got in his Dodge. He fancied it more than his old mare.
He turned on the radio and drove towards the thundering concerto of the End under the rusty voice of J. Cash.