Luke could see it was going to be a long night. Black clouds were scudding across the last of the light and it smelled like rain. He tugged the collar of his jacket up around his neck and finished closing up the garage before hustling inside and shaking off the cold. The electric fan only managed to heat the floor under the desk, and the coffee in his thermos didn’t help much either unless he pretended it did. Luke eased back in the old captain’s swivel chair that acted like it was ready to give up the ghost and hazarded a look at the Pepsi clock above the door. It showed 8:55pm. Ten hours to go.
© 2024 Eric Stromquist
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