What You Gotta Do

“See them clouds, girl? Storm’s comin’.”

The pickup rattled down the mountain’s narrow dirt road. A sudden jolt bounced the truck and they juddered to a stop. Frank got out.

“Damn. Flat tire.”

He hauled out the spare as it started pouring. He fought with the jack and the slick bolts; heaved the muddy tire up; it slipped, bounced, and rolled over the edge and down the mountain.

He climbed back in.

“I’m gonna fetch you the doctor on foot, you hold tight.”

She took his big hand.

The valley lit up.

“Don’t leave me, Daddy.”

Thunder swallowed his answer.

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