She could batten the hatches, weather this one out; these storms never lasted more than three days.
Somehow they always managed to arrive within moments of each other.
Three cars’ worth of doors flung open at once, spilling grandchildren who swirled behind their parents, the mass of them a single squall line bearing down, gusting through the front door without so much as a knock, her daughters’ smiles flashing like lightning.
The men and children retreated to the beach while her daughters assaulted her home, dusting, scrubbing; organizing her cupboards.
The aftermath was always erosion. She was losing ground.
This is a second take on the Carrot Ranch May 3rd prompt , 99 words (no more, no less) using a line in the story. It is also six sentences with the word “single”. Check out both sites to see more takes on these prompts, or leave a story of your own.