Clouds bully the sun trying to rise over her head. Growling thunder leans heavy on the trees across the street. She walks to her car, ruminating on her mistakes until she doesn’t find her keys. Did she leave them in the car—on her desk? Did Jerry—take them? She’ll lose her job, if she loses her keys.

Like a black eye, the sun pierces through ugly clouds as she wilts.

“Dear Jesus—when does it end—what if I—help me. Help me.”

The keys lie in the grass behind her. She grabs them and stumbles to her car.