The Evening Before Mrs. Shuttlebee Died

The slap of wood thundered outside the kitchen as it poured, lightening crackling in the night. The trees moaned as they brushed up against each other, roiling to the wind, their limbs shivering. She watched the rain pour and raised her cup to her lips, the warmth spooling in her palms and warming her chest once she took a sip. Joseph was at the stove, flipping the grilled cheese, the glide of the pan grating her ears. 

"Did you get it?" he asked.

She took another sip and looked at the taut stretch of his shoulders before answering. "Yes."

"Good."