Justine
In the diner on Monday, everyone was talking about a big storm coming. They sounded excited, like a crowd at a bullfight, anticipating the promise of disaster at a safe remove. Maisy, the shoe store owner, said she’d sold three pairs of boots just that week. Mike the barber sighed; he’d lose money with his shop closed, but even he had a thrill in his voice when he talked about the weather forecast. They reminisced about epic blizzards in the past – the 1995 storm that cut them off from the highway for a week, and the one in 1987 that caved in the roof of the Methodist Church. No, that was 1986, said Roberta Jones, a substitute teacher who had strong opinions about everything. A vigorous debate ensued, with arguments pegged to graduation dates, wedding dates, and birth dates.
It w
