Hiding From the Frost

The morning begins. It's cold outside and as I glance at the frost on the window, I feel thankful to be on this side of the glass. Relaxation. No money and no job yet a twinge of euphoria.
Only just shortly after midnight.The medication taken a couple of hours ago induces itching and lethargy. There is no bay outside, but some nice trees provide privacy as well as some aesthetic appeal to the area. The trees are tall and they stay green all the time.
Perhaps a murderer lurks somewhere near. A murderer waiting for one of the train noises to give him a slight chance of killer's anonymity. The trains at night move slowly and methodically, as does the killer's mind.
There is no audible traffic. So quiet a night is it that the candle flames hiss like new born snakes. Surely the noise of a train will come soon. It has been said that a watched pot never boils. An anticipated train never arrives?
Who might the possible victim be? Male or female? Probably female. Young and a little too eager to hop into a car with a stranger.
The stranger probably wears a hat and strangler's gloves, though at the moment the function of the gloves is to stave off the bitter cold.
I wonder what might be on TV, but am slightly too lethargic to click it on and see. There was a time when one had to walk all the way across the room to turn a TV on or off, or even just to change the channel.
What color is the murderer's coat? Black maybe? Probably nothing florescent. Unless of course he has knocked out one of the railroad crewmen and taken his bright yellow vest to use as a disguise. Sometimes they work into the early morning hours.
Wait! There it is. The squealing of brakes. Metal against metal. If there was a foul deed to be done, it probably just happened. I am thankful to be on this side of the glass.
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