He sat in his driveway, his back against his garage door, his breath clouding in the frigid morning air.
He’d been running late for work, cursing himself for being lazy and not putting the car in the garage overnight.
It was a decision he’d regret.
His last jab with his plastic scraper at the inch thick ice on his windshield revealed the unspeakable – a family of four buckled neatly inside his car. They were frozen solid with vacant stares and pale blue complexions.
He didn’t know them, didn’t know where they came from.
He just knew they weren’t there yesterday.
The Weekday One Hundred 