Dogs were barking the whole way on Walt’s route across town, delivering mail to complete strangers. He kept hearing them howl behind his car. “Must be the full moon,” he muttered to himself.
It was the full moon, and it happened to still be out at noon. He’d seen its slivers and fingernails out pretty well after nighttime, but never the whole luminous plate. Maybe today, thought Walt, the moon was up late pulling an all-nighter or something.
Walt hadn’t seen any of the snapping curs, not even in the rear-view mirrors, although the heft of the mail truck did obscure a ton of the field of vision he had behind him, and they could all have been directly behind the vehicle. In any case, Walt didn’t like it much and hurried home after he crammed the day’s last package into somebody’s mailbox. His tire sounded like it popped a few times but it never did. Walt was glad not to have to drive the piece of junk for the rest of the day.
His apartment was deserted but for him that night, and the wind pealed through the deep square courtyard which the only window looked out into.