Week 1: Thursday

He yanked up the blinds and leaned against the window frame, scanning the snow. His breath fogging the glass in rapid bursts as he tried to catch it. The flakes were coming down hard, blurring and distorting the edges of the neighborhood. The tree and the stair rail’s blackness up the hill veiled to a faint gray. He didn’t see it out there now. But he hadn’t checked over his shoulder in that last 100 yard stretch. He found it hard to focus his eyes to catch any movement. Wait was that…shit. Across the street, nestled in a drift, he could see the red leather of the cover. He felt his pocket reflexively but he already knew it wasn’t there. It had fallen out. The red being swallowed by the white flakes. He watched the street for any sign of the creature. He had to go back outside.