He trudged through fresh snow from an overnight storm, heavy steel toe boots creating new footprints back up the path, ladder and natural gas in tow. Tracks dotted the snow ahead, inhuman, two distinct sets. The heart-shaped hooves of a single deer crisscrossed the path. Large paws followed in a straight line, whether canine or feline he couldn’t discern.
He looked up and for a moment, as always, caught sight of a man in black standing, hair ablaze, as if by magic, in the middle of snow devoid of human tracks. He squinted. The man dissolved. In the distance, a dim light flickered, barely visible in the morning sunlight. In the middle of the wood, at the crossroad of three paths stood the gas lamppost he cared for. He was a tall man at just over six feet, but it dwarfed him at nearly double his height. Just as he approached the base of it, the feeble light shuddered its last and winked out.
He set the ladder against the lamppost and climbed up, hauling the gas canister up and up. A flat-head screwdriver appeared in his hand like magic, and he deftly, with a practiced motion, turned the gas supply valve from horizontal to vertical before opening the glass to replace the gas. He clicked a yellow lighter, lighting the lamp. Turning the gas supply valve back from vertical to horizontal, it sprung to life, flame easily seen even in the sunlight.
He walked back down the path, following his own footprints, but looked back. The lamppost shone, turning back into that man in black, hair ablaze. He almost walked back to his only friend. The two paths forward, wide on the left and narrow on the right, on either side of the lamppost, untread by human or beast, beckoned to him. But no footprints marred the snow.
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