By the dawn's early light--the return

For a few months each year, a shaft of early morning light shines through a small eastern window in my living room. As the days lengthen, it moves southward across the western walls, landing where it will, until it makes its slow return to the north as the days once again shorten.

As I sipped my tea this morning, I noted that my friend had once again returned, and I was suffused with a sense of well-being. I had not been abandoned after all.

Suburban waterfall

Zork

You are in an open field west of a big white house with a boarded
front door.
There is a small mailbox here.



> Go East



You are facing the west side of a white house. There is no door here,
and all the windows are boarded up.

>

crossposted to rundown_town



You are eaten by a grue.