The door was locked and I couldn't get in. I could hear the flag whipping in the wind on the pole that was behind me in the front yard. My ears were burning because I knew that they were talking about me inside. My ears were burning because it was so damn cold outside.

My jeans were ripped and my shoelaces were untied. I had what looked like dry blood on my sleeve. The nose was runny and I wasn't sure if I had been hit in the face or not. I heard the whistling again and the flag started flapping louder. I just wanted to get inside.

I knocked. I knocked again.

The next morning I woke up with a shiver. I was still on the doorstep. The sun was shining. The blood was still dry. I found a note on the door. It looked as if it was from a magazine and said:

"It sort of breaks my heart when I think how little we trade our lives for, doing things we don't really want to do," he says. "Part of me is just sort of stunned by how little I was earning in the world doing something I really hated doing."

I put it in my pocket and walked over to the flagpole. I lowered it at half mast. I then walked over to the side door and realized that it was unlocked. So then I walked in.