Night has fallen. The snow, recently melted, has made the cold ground damp. A fierce wind blows in from the West, rattling the skeletal trees, devoid of their leaves.
You stand, alone, at the corner of your driveway. The moon, occasionally obfuscated by the passing cloud or two, shines pale, radiant light down on the neighbourhood. The crackle of your lit cigarette mixes in with the gusts of wind ripping across the yard, sending various detritus tumbling. You shudder, the thick warmth of the heavy leather jacket across your torso just barely managing to keep most of the chill out.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement. Your head snaps to the right, focused on a particular spot across the street. You think you see it again – just a brief glimpse, a flash, a hush of something colourful.
“What the hell...?” you muse aloud, scratching your head. You lean back against the wooden retaining wall on the opposite side of the driveway, keeping your eyes trained on the general area. You narrow your eyes, really concentrating - ...nothing. Nothing but the rustle of the trees and the howl of the wind. You shrug.
You take another puff of your cigarette, the dull burn filling your lungs for the umpteenth time that day. You think to yourself that you should really quit; it's quite a nasty habit, not to mention expensive to boot.
Something jars you out of your self-imposed mental guilt-trip.
You can't quite put your thumb on it at first; it's almost like a nagging sensation at the base of your spine, a sort of twitch that instinctively alerts a person when they're being watched. Slowly, you turn your head -
-nothing. Again, nothing.
Sighing in relief, you turn your head back towards the driveway. You lift your hand to your mouth, about to take a sip of your favourite soda.
“Hi!” The pink pony chirps happily, somehow floating in mid-air above your head.