November Sky

The dull grey sky hung low over his head as he walked down Logan Street, the dead leaves crunching under his boots. A subtle but cold wind wrapped itself around him on its way through Heritage Hill. His steady pace quickened imperceptibly as he turned the corner onto James Street. A flock of crows, perched on a church building, cackled disdainfully at all passersby, as if to say "Caw! Caw!". The beaten and faded campaign signs made their last stand in silence as he entered Allan Manor. He voted.