The last four hours or so of the drive consisted of me speeding past pretty much every car in sight, which caused me to arrive about thirty minutes earlier than originally planned.

I call Javi and Kate real quick to let them know I'll meet them at the truck stop we talk about in a bit, and that I had planned of heading over to my grandmother's house to check the damage.

Driving through Oklahoma gave me a familiar sense of serenity. I feel like I've come home as I roll down the driveway leading to Mamaw's house. She always hated it when we called her 'grandma,' she said it made her feel old.

The feeling of calm and happiness were quickly replaced with those of dread and fear as I caught a view of the barn.

The horse ring was completely torn apart. The fence leading up the side of the driveway was shredded, the front door to the house was open, and the place where the grass had been in the path of the tornado was just dirt. Among all this wreckage, somehow, there was only one thing still standing.

A tree house.

I feel like I can't move, but I need to. Taking my chances with the structure, I climbed the latter and decidedly sat on the center of the floor.

Sitting here brings fond memories of my childhood. Mamaw yalling and me and whoever else was at the house that sandwiches and lemonade were done inside and to come get it; snowy days running around with Mom and Peter, swinging on the swingset with my cousins; the very sake activity that cause me to break my arm.

The road leasing to the base of the driveway is visible from here, and I see a white truck turn onto the gravel path leading to the house.

I climb down the latter, secretly greatful for the unreasonable long driveway, and make my way to the front porch of the house, only to notice the front door wasn't just open, it was completely missing.

Internally realizing that whoever was driving coming up the driveway was probably here to see Mamaw, I prepared myself to share the news.

The truck parts about 15 feet or so from where I'm standing, and a man with a white dressy-looking shirt and jeans steps out, placing a grey over his hair. He leans pack into his truck and grabs what looks like to be a clipboard before closing the door and walking my way.

It isn't until he's to the steps that I quit register how tall he actually is. At least 6'2. He kind of looks like Superman, to be honest, and definitely not hard on the eyes.

Caught up in my thoughts, I didn't hear what he was saying.

"I'm so sorry, could you repeat that?"

For a solid five seconds, I think he didn't hear me, but then he let's out a breath.

"Yes, Ma'am, of course. Just please, listen this time."

Rude.

"My name is Scott Miller, I work with a tornado recovery and study organization called StormPar. We find it our duty to assist citizens in their path of recovery from previous tornados and do our best to research ways to warn people about them occurring."

Scott, or StormPar Superman as I'm probably going to remember him as, absolutely radiates an "I'm better than you" vibe, and it's already pissing me off.

"I was hoping you'd be alright with me taking a look around your property with you to assess damages and maybe find a process of dealing and sorting out said damages?"

"Y'know what, why not. I'm Dahlia Evans." I reach out to shake his hand, getting a firm grasp in return. "It'd be better than wandering the whole thing myself."

I wave a hand behind me to sign him to follow as I begin walking into the house. When has anyone ever been killed by inviting a random stranger into their house anyway? I mean, it's literally not even my house.

Going through the downstairs, not much was missing or damages from what I could tell. I decide I'm not going to go through things closely right now because that is one this I'd rather do alone, so I take us to the back door overlooking the rest of the property.

Stepping out of the back door almost felt like the same as walking into a sauna right before the water is poured over the coals again. The humidity feels practically the same.

"If memory serves me right, but bear with me because selective memory probably won't, there's another barn like the one out front near the back of the property in the treeline," I say, pointing directly in front of us. "But I don't see it."

I hear him sign heavily next to me, causing me to look up at him. At the same time, he looks down at me, a clear expression of annoyance taking over his features.

"Let's go then," is all he says before looking back up and stepping down the porch steps.

Confused but mildly unbothered, I slightly jog down the steps to meet the distance he's already made down the path. As we're making our way to the other barn, for the first time in thirty minutes or so, the words that come out of Scott's mouth aren't condescending.

"It's beautiful out here."

"Yeah, Mamaw loved it here."

"Mamaw?"

"Yeah, my grandmother."

The conversation seemingly drops after my statement, but it's somehow not as awkward as I thought I'd make it. Thankfully, though, not even two minutes later, we make it to the remains of the once tall standing barn.

"Should probably just tear the rest down," We both say monotonous, causing us to look at each other with a confused expression.

Deciding I'll figure out what to do with the barn later, I lead us back up to the house.

After a few seconds of pure silence with the exception of our footsteps, the man next to me asks me a purely shocking question.

"Would you be interested in selling the land?" He asks, staring dead ahead of us, into the ruins of the barn. "You won't have to pay for the cleanup of the barn or home or anything. All of that will be covered."

Something in his tone sounds somewhat remorseful, but I'm not quite sure if it's genuine or not.

Taking a second, closer look at his face, he almost looks regretful before noticing me staring and returns to his seemingly natural stoic expression.

"Hell no." Were rounding the house, following the path laid by the wrap around porch. "I appreciate the offer, but I spent every summer down here almost every year of my life, and I plan on finishing where I started."

I go up to his truck and open his door for him, mildly shocked for a second at it being unlocked before remembering I don't currently have to worry about someone breaking into vehicle where we are, before gesturing to the truck as a signal for him to leave, that he's crossed a line.

"It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Miller, but I'd gladly appreciate it if I don't get such an opportunity again." I say as I shut his door for him and make my way up to the missing front door.