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Katie Spence

The weather in New York gets pretty bad sometimes. Tonight the wind is shrieking in such a way that it sounds like a human scream. I huddle further beneath the duvet so that it covers my ears and muffles the sound. I can still hear the howling so I get out of bed to check the windows are fully closed. They are. The noise stops so I get back into bed and doze off.
            Then the shrieking starts up again and this time it definitely sounds a lot more like a woman wailing and a lot less like wind whistling between the crammed-together buildings in Queens. I feel annoyed because I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. I drag myself up again and press my face against cold glass, peering down into the street below. There is a lone man sauntering away from my apartment block, a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes. Aside from him, the sidewalk is empty. Where is the racket coming from? I cross the room and put my eye to my door’s peephole. There’s nobody out there. Not that I can see, anyway. The screaming has subsided into a low moan. It ceases altogether.
            The thought flickers across my mind that I should go out into the street and investigate, but it’s cold outside and my soft bed beckons me. I convince myself it must have been the wind all along. The weather in New York does get pretty bad sometimes.