Elias wiped his hands on his apron. "Usually, the over on 5th is the first stop. They often set up a self-service station during storms. But I heard the line there is already wrapped around the block."
The rain didn’t just fall; it hammered against the windows of Elias’s hardware shop like a debt collector. Usually, people came to Elias for a specific screw or a shade of eggshell paint, but today, the bell above the door hadn't stopped ringing for one reason: the river was rising.
The sky turned a bruised purple. Mrs. Gable thanked him and sped off toward the city yard. Elias looked back at his shop. He knew he wouldn't be selling much paint today, but as long as he had bags and directions, he could help his neighbors hold back the tide.