Katrina (extract)

The rotating green light from the radar screen intermittently lit Colin's pinched face as he sipped at his cappaccino. It was a slow night for weather watching, the glowing cloud formations comprised of pixels generated from streamed satellite data were laid out in meterologically uninteresting patterns and Colin took another sip of the hot coffee hoping it would wake his senses up. The problem was that the forecast was 'dull', just 'dull'. The same word Angie had used when she slammed the door for the final time. How had he become like this, Colin asked himself? When would the weather turn?

"How's it goin', Colin?"
"Ugh?" said Colin, spinning round at the question. His manager had a habit of suddenly appearing behind him with no sound, no reflection in the round glass of the radar screen.
"Oh, er, fine, thanks Bob." said Colin.
"Good." Bob frowned at the screen and jabbed a finger at a position out over the Atlantic Ocean. "That updated in the last three hours?" he asked.
Colin checked a printout. "Er, no. Should be due any minute."
"Well, keep an eye on it." said Bob as he wandered off, a troubled expression on his face.
"Okay." said Colin.

He stared back at the clouds and the clouds stared back at him. The point Bob had indicated was a little different than the usual mid-Atlantic flurries. If you looked closely you could just make out a small circle, surrounded by tiny finely drawn crescent shaped half moons. It reminded Colin of his wife's eye, the filligree patterns in her green irises that reflected his own distorted image when they made love. Had she thought he was dull even in these moments?

A beep from the computer told him new data was updating the image. Perhaps now he would be able to call Bob back and put his mind at rest. There would be no extreme weather forming there, Colin knew. He' been doing this for too many years. He waited as the image updated, the pixels changing colour and shape. The effect on Angie's eye was as if it blinked and then opened again, this time larger.

Colin put down his coffee and his own eyes grew larger. He snatched for the telephone and punched in a number, never taking his eyes off the screen.
"Hello, Bob?" said Colin.
"I think we may have a hurricane..."