Write about the fault line.

So I fell back on my old stand-by, A Writer's Book of Days, for a prompt last night because I was too lazy to sit and go through my other zillion writing prompt books to find something new to write about.

Some comedian had spent the night painting a wavering dotted line down the main drag through town with the words "fault line" painted along it. Most of the townspeople thought it was funny. "Kind of like a cosmic 'tear here,'" laughed Ed Grainger as he shouldered open the cafe door just after sun-up. Others viewed it as tempting fate. I could tell by the pinched and white-lipped frown on Mrs. Frances Fortner's face that she was solidly on the tempting fate (leaning heavily toward the vandalism) side. I pitied Sheriff Parsons who would get an earful from both sides no matter how fast he got Norman and Elmer out there to clean it off. "High school hijinks," said Tillie Sue Meeker with a knowing nod. "It's a reaction to all the media attention being paid to the latest seismology report from that crackpot out at the college," said Luther from his post behind the griddle. Several heads bobbed their agreement just as the ground started to roll and the coffee began to dance in the mugs. Every eye in the cafe turned to stare at that dotted line on the pavement waiting to see what would happen.

See you Thursday with Lou's critique. Who's leader? Is it you, Bob?
--Barbara