on the stairs
Thirty-nine days.
Today I went out at quarter past eleven and sat on the top step in my coat with a coffee, facing down, so that anyone coming up would have to come past me.
Nobody came. The school kids went by at the bottom on some trip with their headlamps on and their teacher at the back, and three of them waved. Kjell came out to put salt on his path and pretended not to see me. The sky did its pink thing. At quarter past twelve I couldn't feel my feet and went in.
No knock. Not while I was out there and not after. The first day since it started.
I should be pleased. It means it's someone, and they saw me, and they've been put off.
I didn't get anything done all afternoon. I kept going to the door.