The seventh repetition almost played out like all the others. A different person filled Luis' place, but despite the evidence before my eyes, I could only see my idiot husband. The burnt-coffee weight of disappointment in my stomach gave me all the certainty I needed. Once again, he'd forgotten the cat. "Goddamn it, Luis. You were supposed to get Nye!"
Luis – the curly-haired teenaged girl standing in his place – squealed in shock. "Oh my gosh! It's the ghost!" He dropped his bag of candy corn, and wedges of multicolored sugar-wax scattered across the concrete basement floor.
I sighed. "This isn't a drill, Luis, I checked the news! You forgot Nye, didn't you?"
Luis and a friend, some freckle-faced boy, cowered against the wall. Luis found his courage and pried himself free from his partner's grasp. "She's real. No way!" He stretched out his arm, fingers curled as if testing a hot wire.
I rolled my eyes. If he's not going to help, I'll just get Nye myself, tornado warning or no. I...
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Benjamin C. Kinney is a SFF writer, neuroscientist, and the Assistant Editor at the science fiction podcast magazine Escape Pod. Find him online at benjaminckinney.com or follow him on Twitter @benckinney.