Modern-Day Rex

It was the end of the day. I had just completed an outdoor workout on the last hot day of the year. As I drove home with sweat slowly drying across my browline, I felt a sense of peace. My back sunk into the driver’s seat fully relaxed. The endorphins had hit, giving me a rush of positivity as I watched the sunset through the gaps in the metal structure of the bridge. The melding of oranges, reds, and pinks shifted my state of mind into eutopia. As I began to approach the bridge, my trance from the sunset transferred to the approaching Knobs. I glanced over the treetops, scanning like I did every day, wishing today was like most others. But, unfortunately, I spotted a tail, attached to a familiar creature bounding through the west side. The trees were shaking, breaking off like a head of broccoli as it made its way through a peak, the last of the sunlight hitting his face, his terrifying T-Rex profile. I looked down, feeling the vibration of my phone in my lap. It was my mom. I knew why she was calling. I could see it directly in front of me. I didn’t need to answer. She’d tell me there’d been another Tyrannosaurus sighting, that its tornado was wreaking havoc on houses in this neighborhood and that, and to wait it out until it had passed. My overnight bag that lived in my trunk was ready for me. I would be going to stay away from home tonight, away from the Knobs where the dinosaurs lived, thrived, and fed. I wasn’t scared, I was used to this protocol. It was the price I paid for living in a town with beautiful sky-scraper-like views; just an annoying downside that potentially turned fatal for us, like hurricanes for the south.