Miracles

It had been raining for three days straight. The freeway was worse than usual. He took the back roads to work, as he always did when he was late, and this morning he was really late.
He popped in a new CD, one that a friend had lent him. It was shiny music, the kind that pulls you unwillingly out of a funk. An extra half-hour doesn't really matter after sleeping in for two hours, so he decided to grab a waffle at his favorite breakfast place. He turned left seventy-five feet before driving into the ocean and followed the train tracks south.
Looking for a parking spot, he noticed something that required immediate action. There were spaces in front of the cafe, on the other side of the street. Despite the rain, he basked in the glow of the parking gods and prepared to break the laws necessary to capitalize on his good fortune.
As he slowed, he saw something he had never seen before. Beyond the perfect parking spot, beyond the rose bushes, beyond the patio, he saw sky. Where the cafe should have been. He dropped his eyes and saw a bright yellow bulldozer shining in the morning sun, moving slowly over piles of rubble. At once failing to comprehend and understanding completely, he felt the weight of the week resume its place on his shoulders, and kept driving. He looked back once, but knew that he didn't have to.
He turned the stereo off. He didn't feel like listening to anything anymore.