Parents huddled in darkened hallways, listening to the roof strain and groan, every gust sounding like it might be the one to tear everything away. In crowded community shelters, strangers shared flashlights, phone chargers, and stories of near misses—trees crashing into bedrooms, cars swept aside by sudden torrents, windows exploding under the pressure. Volunteers moved cot to cot with blankets and hot drinks, trying to calm shaking hands and wide, sleepless eyes.
Outside, emergency crews waded through flooded streets, cutting through fallen branches and live wires, checking house after house. The storm may have come fast, but the response was faster: neighbors knocking on doors, pulling people from stalled cars, offering spare rooms to those who’d lost everything. By dawn, the winds had eased, but the questions remained—about the next storm, about rebuilding, and about how a community holds its breath together, then chooses to rise.
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