Funtane Trammell's car was submerged up to its mirrors. His mattress, still holding his 2-year-old American bully named Cash sat barely above the murky waters. His trash cans and other storage bins floated aimlessly about his house.

Barbara Lewandowska woke up to find her fridge halfway across the room. Her garbage cans were laying in her front yard, some 25 feet away from where she left them next to her garage. When she stepped on her carpet, water still sprung up to the surface, wetting the bottom of her shoes at even the littlest bit of pressure.

Both of their homes are ornamented with distinct lines of grass and dirt on them around 2-3 feet above the ground, a marker for how high the water rose. Neighboring houses and cars on the street have the same. The pavement is covered in mud a

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