“So good to know there is light at the end of the tunnel,” said Crisp my aged companion.
Were had made it along the tunnel to the place where large concrete bollards had been placed to prevent vehicles from either entering the tunnel or leaving it.
“There’s nothing better than to find yourself in the middle of a metaphor,” announced Crisp.
It was one of those occasions where Crisp was being more philosophical than normal.
“There’s always a hurdle of some sort,” I said.
“But nothing totally insurmountable,” added Crisp.
With that, she stepped around the bollards and headed out into the sunshine.
She had just stepped into the hot afternoon when the ground began to shake, groan and tremble.
“Earthquake,” she screamed, “get back into the tunnel.”
We just made it, as a huge crack appeared just where we’d been standing.
“That was no metaphor,” she stated to my trembling self.