The heavy humid night felt like an unfulfilled promise as the wind slapped against the nape of Nate’s neck. The summer sun had been draining the color and the life from his crunchy lawn for weeks now, but he could not bring himself to water it. Even in the convection oven of July that seemed an unnecessary luxury while fires raged to the north and west.

He could not stop himself from looking up though. Watching the blanketed sky sweep by on the long gusts, that stirred up the cicadas and sent the trees into a chorus of pleas for rain, how much was smoke and how much was cloud. Nate hoped that the scales were tipping in favor of clouds. Not just because the almond trees that ran like stubble over the hilly 20 acres Quentin had purchased two years ago were looking worse by the day, but mostly.

The dryness had everyone on edge. First responders, farmers, and banks all their eyes on the cost and the loss. A bottom line that only seemed to be getting more dire.

So, Nate couldn’t help himself from sending out a wordless call for help as the wind died down and everything sagged under the weight of 98% humidity. If his desperation could have been given a voice it might have said “please do not make the hard working suffer needlessly”. Maybe it would have just asked “why”.

Either way it deserved a response.