This morning, as I walked to work, I looked up at the sky. It was clear blue, almost from edge to edge. I was a little disappointed; I like the way the sky looks at morning and evening with some clouds scattered over it, with silver highlights and deeper greys and sunlight flashing in the gaps.
Now, the sky outside the bank is dark with storm clouds, moving in high winds. The flags outside whip out straight and fluttering, the tree tops waving and bending. No tornado warning here, yet. But I can hear thunder now, and I've seen lightning flashes. Others at the bank have been clustering around the glass walls that frame the bank, looking up at the sky, watching the clouds. The clouds on the southern front, earlier, were scultped by the winds into a solid mass with a base like a contusion, distorted but not broken. Overhead, little circles of cloud -- not swirling -- opened to the blue sky beyond. Everyone speculated on whether this or that might be evidence of a tornado coming.
One of the loan officers from another location, Al, called me a few minutes ago.
Al: Have you looked outside?
Al: What are you going to do if there's a tornado?
Me: The branch manager is keeping an eye on it. We'll all go hide in the vault.
Al: Oh. Well, if the bank gets blown away, who am I supposed to call? I mean, if I need a payment made or something?
Me: Try downtown.
Don't worry about me. When a tornado flattened one of the little towns in southern Missouri, the vault for the bank was the only thing left standing. We'll be fine.