PuddingJackson

“Some people rebuild because it’s their duty. Others rebuild because they can’t bear to walk away.” The floodwaters took most of the night to recede, leaving behind a smell of river mud and diesel fuel. By sunrise, the whole town felt washed in gray: storefronts boarded, debris tangled in the guardrails, the air heavy with the kind of silence that comes only after something has broken. Jackson stepped off the bus and saw people gathering — neighbors carrying shovels, volunteers unloading...

“Some birds leave only to return later, in some distant future. Some were never yours to begin with.” Following the flood a waterline still marked on the diner wall. Faint, muddy, shoulder high. They’d scrubbed it three times, but it never disappears completely. Kind of like the ache in Jackson’s chest. Whole blocks are gone.  Some homes collapsed like wet cardboard. Some were bulldozed before their owners had a chance to return. Nobody talks about the development plans, but the surveyors...

“This storm’s been building a long time.” - Jackson The rain started before sunrise. By the time Jackson stepped off his bus at work, the gutters were overflowing and a gale wind was tugging at the plastic tarp someone had stapled over the warehouse roof weeks ago — still waiting on a work order. Nobody fixed things around here unless someone got hurt. Inside the breakroom, the floor was slick with muddy footprints. Jackson poured coffee into a styrofoam cup and stared out the foggy glass,...