Fiction
The Thunderstorm
A stormy weekend
“I don’t think the air conditioner’s working,” he said.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said as they both looked at the dead window unit. It was their only respite from the humid Midwestern summer. The old cabin didn’t have central air. Something she reminded him of when they agreed to take the cabin for the week.
“There’s no air,” she said back in their kitchen.
“I know but it will be fun,” he said.
“If you say so.”
Now that conversation was rolling through both their minds.
“I’ll call Nick and see if he can fix it,” he said.
“Uh uh.”
“Pray that he can fix it,” he said under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
He played with the machine a little while longer but he knew it was useless. Honestly, he barely knew how to turn it on.
He walked into the kitchen, it was smaller than the one at home. But it would work all the same.
“I’m going to get dinner started.”
“Why don’t we go out?”
He laughed, “Everything’s closed already around here.”
