Gas Station Kindness

It was raining sideways. You know the kind—like the clouds were mad and flinging water in every direction to prove they could. Trees bent like they were in a choreographed dance, bowing, and thunder growled its disapproval while I drove on the highway.

I’d spoken in a town a couple of hours from home for a book club group about my new novel, “Where Horse Run Secrets Hide”, and now I tried to outrun the clouds.

When I could no longer see the pavement, I stopped at a gas station and parked beneath a large awning, not thinking about where it might collapse on me or not.