unbroken iii (draft)

A man at my door and nothing more, except the snow crawl on his spotted face, and his tented, black hood, and the blackness behind him, and the cone of a gas lamp in the street, the ticker twirl and yellow show! and the man! and the frown!

Can I come in?

I, uh.

Can I please come in?

I, uh.

Maddy? I am begging you to let me in.