“Those tables look fine,” Sheila said. The outdoor furniture she pointed to did indeed look undisturbed.
“We don’t know how much damage the storm caused,” Roland explained. “Power returned an hour ago but might not stay on. We can’t risk being open.”
“You don’t understand.” Sheila balled fists into her hips. “The client asked to meet here, right here, at 10. You’re interfering with my business!”
Roland couldn’t contain his frustration, waving towards the uprooted trees. “Call your damn client, change your plans. I have bigger concerns than your damn meeting!”
Shelia turned away. “This is your problem, not mine!”
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction challenge.
The Diligent Dilettante 
Profound thought.