Hey, boss. No, I’m not gonna make it in today. No, I’m feeling fine, but I stepped outside this morning and there was a great dark shape looming in the mist, and seven black birds sitting in the dead tree next to my apartment building. The largest spoke with my dead namesake’s voice. What? Yeah, there was a warning. Not to go about shod or unshod, not to show my face by night or day, not to take food from any stranger or kinsman. Then something about the torment of the houseless soul that walks the earth in winter, when the gates of heaven and hell both are shut. Yeah, just to be on the safe side. Yeah. Uh-huh. A crowmen! That’s exactly what I said! Yeah, see you Monday, boss.
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