LEONARD SHUFFLED OVER to the kettle and poured the hot water into his favorite mug (the one with a chip taken out of the rim). He slid the mouse out of the fire and put it on a plate, placed a napkin under it, and carefully placed mug and plate on the battered little table next to his easy chair.

As he settled himself, sucking out the eyeballs of the mouse before delicately patting his mouth, Leonard couldn't help but look over his shoulder. The sound of crunching mouse bones was deadened by the snow, but nothing else could be seen.

After clearing up, Leonard sat on his haunches on the edge of his truss and thought. Why was he so certain something watched him back from beyond the blustery whiteness? He was, perhaps, a little lonely. After all Leonard had no friends and no relations. No one would come and see him, which is why (here he nodded to himself) he simply imagined someone wandering around in the snow around his bridge. He much preferred it that way, of course. Leonard nodded again and reached out to take his stuffed bunny from his chair. He gave MacGuffin a little kiss on the head and cuddled it as he dangled his legs over the truss edge.

The day passed. Leonard sat on the balustrade with the wind in his face. He ate six cockroaches for afternoon tea. He read his book- Humans: A Compleat Guide To Meat Preparation- in bed and drifted off to sleep with it open on his face, MacGuffin carefully tucked in beside him.

The next morning, Leonard awoke to silence.

He lifted the book off his face. A scene of horror met his eyes.