The last friendly house


The last turn
the last quiet
winding street
until there are no street lights left
and the road
twisted
turns and finally stops
the end of the line
the last stop.
The lights in the window
flicker
and then fade to black
as we crunch across the snow
to the door
a red door
closed against the cold
we knock
rapping on the wood
which hurts the knuckles
there is no sound on the other side.
Nothing
we knock again.
Nothing.
It seems
The last friendly house is closed.

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