Craig was tired. He had been working all day, and even walking home was an enormous challenge. He glanced at his watch. It read, 7:30 p.m., Friday, June 20. He focused on the path ahead, to keep his mind off his tired legs and sore feet. He walked past the corner store, and the park, up into the more rural part of town.
The wind began to pick up, the dark grey clouds moving swiftly now. Craig shivered and walked faster, nervously grinding his teeth together.
The first drops of rain landed lightly on the dusty road. Soon, the rain was coming down much faster, threatening to soak his jacket.
Craig looked to his right, searching for shelter, and saw nothing but forest. He looked to his left. He saw a small cabin, with black walls, and a red, metal roof. He had never, in the many times he must have passed it, seen it before.
Craig ran towards the cabin. He found the door, a small, frail looking thing, and knocked three times. No answer. He knocked again. Still nothing.
By now Craig was almost soaked, so he opened the door and walked inside. The cabin was completely empty, but at least it was dry. Craig found it impossible to fight sleep, so he curled up on the dirt floor and passed out.
When Craig woke up, he was lying on the ground, about 10 yards from the road. It felt like he had slept for a long time, but he could not tell. He vaguely remembered falling asleep in the cabin, but the cabin was gone, as if it was never there. The sky was completely clear, and all traces of the rain were gone.
Craig walked home, flabbergasted. As he reached his doorstep, he noticed that the newspaper had arrived. On the corner read the date, Monday, June 23.
