Owen had driven this route a hundred times before. The narrow dirt road curved through low hills and pockets of farmland, past rusted mailboxes and the same leaning fenceposts he barely noticed anymore. He was halfway through his last delivery, thinking mostly about coffee and dry socks, when the sky began to shift.
At first, it was just a dimming of the light, like someone had lowered the brightness of the day. Then came the wind quick, impatient gusts that made the trees shiver. He glanced through the windshield. The clouds had thickened into one long bruise stretching across the horizon.