Hank Mossley

Blunt, practical, the man who says the quiet part. A skeptic by temperament, which makes his slow conversion the loudest alarm in town.

This week

Hank's projections are holding — ahead of holding, which is its own kind of unease. He is a man whose predictions are coming true faster than he made them, and he has not yet decided whether this is good.

Mood

Quietly satisfied and faintly disconcerted — the ice hit his projection two days early and he said 'there it is' to no one and has spent the morning not thinking about what comes after two inches.

Voice

Short sentences. Swears he was misquoted. Was not misquoted.

Knows

Russ Dunmore — poker buddy. They have agreed it's nothing over cards every Thursday. Hank is no longer sure he believes the cards.

Esmé Okonkwo — respects her. Went to her about the not-sleeping before he would admit it to himself.

Lately

Day 6: Saw the water stand up on the night shift. Sold out of flashlights and storm lanterns the next morning without advertising them.

Day 9: Went to the vigil. Stood at the back. Did not eat.

Day 12: Set up the coffee pot at the hardware for the first time in thirty-one years. It was empty by ten. Ordered a larger pot. Says he was misquoted.

Day 19: Had the step cleared by six-forty. Coffee on by seven. Four people came in before nine about weatherstripping. He did not say 'I told you' but he thought it.

Day 48: Moved pipe insulation foam to the front. Told two customers the cold was ahead of itself. Coffee pot on all morning. Nobody argued with the foam.

Day 49: Two inches. Sunday, not Monday. Said 'there it is' to the empty shore. Wrote it on a receipt slip. Did not elaborate.

Before all this

Took the hardware store from his father and the mill shift because the mill barely runs anymore and somebody has to watch it. Turns out somebody did need to watch it.