Prompt by boston.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Really.
Hurricane Irene
She looks out the window at the rain lashing the empty street and takes another sip of her Merlot. She's got plenty of food, water, and candles, spare batteries for the flashlight, and two more bottles of wine.
Her shrink cancelled tomorrow's appointment, which is fine because the last thing she wants is to talk about Roy, or her breakup with Josh, or the shooter that's still out there somewhere. And she sure as hell isn't ready to mention Castle and the enormous bomb he dropped just as she was going under.
Some storms are easier to weather than others.