383. Through the grey windshield, he saw the grey sky buffeted by a grey wind and full of snow. A sheet of clouds and smog made everything seem still. The only interruption was the sound of airplanes flying by behind the thick grey curtain, invisible to the city. The pilot of the little airplane had forgotten to notify the airport of his approach, so that when the lights of the plane in the night were first spotted, the air raid sirens went off, and the entire city on that coast went dark. It was unlike him to make such an error. It wasn't as if the impending death of the year was giving him pause for concern, but rather he had an unpleasant ache in his head from too much coffee and not enough sleep. He'd make sure to get his head down as soon as he could. The week crawled slowly and certainly toward death.