... anyone's natural reaction would be to rise, move towards the door and solicit a confirmation from the visitor on the other side. However she did not rise. She did not react at all to the knocking. She knew, as she had known every night prior, that there would be no caller to be found there.
It had been 3 weeks
since he departed. The shadowy forms fading in and out of the mists
surrounding the house kept her from venturing out to look for him. The
knocking started the following night.
Each time she would go to the door, expecting to find him there... but only found the darkness.
Tendrils of mist flickered towards her, startling her... and she would retreat back into the house and slam the door. On one occasion, she lingered too long and felt the cold tendrils coiling around her arm, almost imperceptibly pulling her out into the night. She has not opened the door since.
She sips her tea. Knock, knock, knock.