She stood on the porch of the old house, hands cupped above her brow to shield against the harsh glare of the sun. She scanned the fields for any sign of movement but there was only the late summer heat shimmering above the parched crops.
He was coming. She could feel it. And soon, she saw the familiar silhouette of his truck hurtling toward her, a dusty haze of Oklahoma dirt kicking up behind the old chassis. After a few moments, she turned away and retreated into the comfort of the old house to wait for his arrival.
The house gathered itself around her, and embraced her with a delicious coolness. She ran her fingers along the yellowed wallpaper and small faces pressed out from the walls to murmur gentle words of assurance to her. Amid the hushed voices, she felt safe. The house had protected her all these years and she knew it would do so again today. She was sure of it.