The fog-laden evening chilled him to the bone as he stood beneath the street lamp.

“I am getting to old for this,” he mutters.

The juxtaposing hard soft glow of the lamps created an eerie duality of light on the street. The long

shadows dancing in the wind blown lamplight. The headlights shine on him briefly as the vehicle passes.

He checked his watch and pulled his cloak tighter against the cold.

The ache in his back. He leaned over and touches his toes to stretch the muscles, then placed his hands in the small of his back and leaned back, as far as he could.

The pop was almost audible as his spine realigned.

He sighed in relief.

Looking at his watch, he finally heard the approach in the distance.

He never knew when this she might tire of this.

Her incessant need to keep tabs on him was annoying, but he had long ago resigned himself.

She had little sense of humor, but she was pleasant to look at. They had played this game for as long as he could remember, and he was pushing… uh… well lets just say he was much older than the young lady.

He reached down and picked up the glass that he had set on the walk beside him.

She approached her hands flying, knitting, crocheting…or something else, he was never quite sure, and truthfully not that interested.

“Evening!” He said cheerfully. “Fancy meeting a girl like you in a place like this.”

Hand slowly demonstrating the magnificent surroundings, well… at least to him.

She winked. Reached out a hand containing a small piece of thread.

“Father,” she said as he took the thread.

Beautiful as ever he thought. He dearly enjoyed the moments, brief though they were.

“Fate, same time next year?” he smiled as he and his hourglass slowly disappeared.

The cracked sidewalk lead up to the creaky steps of the old Victorian house.

He took a deep breath… and began walking up to the porch just above the stairs.

With each step it felt like he was walking in molasses, slowly his legs felt heavier the closer he got.

At the steps he struggled to lift his leg. Placing it on the step, he struggled to lift the other as the step creaked and groaned under him.

Twice more he struggled, twice more he climbed. Now, on the porch, he could see the note on the door. “Ring for delivery.”

The postman reached behind his back, fondling the bloody knife. The last victim had struggled and screamed. His crooked smile spread as he pushed the button and heard the ding dong of the bell.

He could see the little girl approach the door.

His hand closed on the knife as he stood holding the package. The door opened and the little girl stepped out. She smiled at the man.

She reached for the package and his hand swung the knife as the girl brushed his hand with hers.

The scene explodes in white bright, the man feels at peace, at last, his anger swept away.

The eerie soft words faded in the air. “Special delivery…” The young girl said.

The young waitress sat at the counter, her tips laid out in front of her as she counted.

Old county songs, soft in the background, as she felt around for her glasses.

A movement from the corner caught her attention.

The last booth, the last customer… creepy. The guy seemed to be staring at her all night, but when she looked…

“I wish… he would just… leave,” she thought.

The creaks and groans of the diner always grated on her.

And the guy in the corner was not helping.

She turned and opened the register, trading her tips for larger bills.

As the drawer dinged shut, the ringing of the bell above the door caused her to start.

Oh…

She could see Jerry, the cook through the window as he walked out to his car.

Her heart sank.

She snuck a glance toward the corner, then, finding the man standing, her heart stopped.

The man reached into his pocket, slowly, deliberately, as he slowly sauntered in her direction. She diverted her gaze, maybe…

She saw his shoes as he stopped in front of her.

As the metal pressed against her hand, the man spoke.

“Annie,” he said softly. “You forgot your glasses again.”

He reached down and took her hand, placing her glass…