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Weekly Contest #12
Raymond gripped his coat tightly as wind violently blew his way. Wincing to shield his eyes from whatever bits and pieces flew at him, he yelled out, "Monica! Monica!", yet his voice was drowned out by the wind and rain’s incessant ruckus. He desperately called out her name, but there was no response, no sign of life in the dark streets of Porter. He drunkenly stumbled his way around, the wind blowing so strongly it almost sent him flying. He retrieved his pocket watch and tried making out the time. It read two thirty-four in the morning, an...
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