by	gurdonark
length	3:21
Recommends	Recommends (8)

At 4 in the morning, April 10, the tornado siren sounded. We sat in a walk-in interior closet, watching radar on the news. The wind blew down Bradford pear trees like matchsticks.

In another place, after it flew a frightful distance, the house amid the ominous tornado landed atop an evil witch. Hope arrived in an ominous cloud, accompanied by a small dog.

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