Ella had not meant to stay awake this late. One thought after another had led the tiny ball in the end of her pen across twenty or so pages before she realised that time had not waited for her.
She opened the back door and, balancing on the lip of white plastic at the bottom of the frame, lit a cigarette and watched as the snow continued to set in. The deathly smoke danced with her warm breath; weaving through the snowflakes.
Ella stubbed out her cigarette and turned to go back inside when out of the corner of her eye she noticed the dull orange streetlight fade out. After a static gaze into the newly formed blackness she yawned and made her way back inside.
The street outside her kitchen window survived only from the reflection of the moon in the crystal-like snow. Mesmerised by what her window was showing her she finished making two packed lunches without looking down.
She put the lunchboxes in the little corner of the kitchen that sits in perpetual winter: the fridge, and made her way back to the window for one more look. There was a faint humming and the streetlight blinked back into service; painting the snow orange once again.
Suddenly, a small boy ran through the street. With the streetlight ablaze he looked like he was carving his way through an urban beach at sunset. Ella rubbed her eyes and made for her bedroom.
The town had played host to the snow for the past few days. Straight lines became curved and windows grew full white beards. Winter had taken hold early this year.
In a wide alleyway behind the local police station a faint wheezing and groaning noise built to a crescendo and a blue wooden box flickered into existence. Silence, and after a moment the door swung inwards revealing a tall man in a long brown trench-coat. He looked around, straightened his bow tie and made his way through the dark alleyway.
To be continued...