The white mist hung in the air, clouding any attempt to see farther than twenty meters in any direction. Trees loomed tall and dark like so many great sentinels, unmoving in the still air. Darius sat on the front stoop and listened to a horse trot by without seeing it as it passed.

The steam from his cup rose in tiny swirls and added to the mist already in the air. He smelled the air as he sat; the petrichor lingered from the previous evening’s rain.

Lifting an ancient tone which sat on a table next to him, he read a chapter before closing it with a bookmark and standing to return to the house. As the door clicked shut, the peace of the morning was returned. A bluejay chimed in the distance